The Color Red
by Miku Siran
Summary: Dr.Lisa Cuddy was found dead in her bedroom on Valentine's day. It was recorded as a suicide, but House knows there's more to the story. He teams up with an unlikely person to find the truth before her death is forgotten forever. huddy
1. The AM News

The Color Red

The AM News

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to House or CSI. I just like to write about it. Reviews are always welcomed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_She slipped through the door and tossed her keys onto her dining room table. The rain was coming down very hard and she was already soaked through. Her curly hair was wet, but she ignored it as she made her way into the kitchen. She was alone, unsurprisingly. On the night of Valentine's day, she was alone. _

_The house was dim, the night finally starting to set in as she poured herself a cup of wine. She had worked for two days straight now and it was beginning to show. She was tired and had finally found time between the patients and the paperwork to come home and rest. _

_A knock was heard on her door and she checked her watch. It was very late. Who would visit her at this hour? She knew. The only jackass that would bother her at this hour. He must want something. She debated whether she should let him in. _

_The sound of thunder answered her question. As much as she wanted to mess with him, her heart would not allow him to stand outside in the rain. With a sigh, she opened the door. _

_A hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to scream. The sound of thunder and lightening gave her a clear look at her attacker's face. Her blood ran cold and then she shut her eyes, knowing she would not survive the night. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Detective Tritter entered the room. It smelled of blood. The room seemed to belong to someone who was extremely neat and put together. A CSI entered behind him. Her name was Catherine Willows and she had been working her job for years and was as hardboiled as they came. She, however, winced at the amount of the blood on the bedsheets and pillows.

Tritter pulled out his notepad as Catherine went to the body. She gently moved some locks of dark curly brown hair out of the woman's face.

"What's your take on this?" Tritter asked.

"Young, pretty, and successful judging by the size and location of this house." Catherine commented, looking around the room.

"I think it's a suicide." Tritter suggested.

"I don't know yet. I haven't processed anything." Catherine replied, lifting up the woman's wrist and examining three slashes right down the vein that ran through them.

"Killers don't kill by slashing wrists." Tritter pointed out.

Catherine made no comment. She had never run into a case where one did, but some instinct told her that it was not a suicide. However, as she collected evidence from the rest of the room, it would seem as if it was a suicide. There was just no evidence pointing in any other direction, not even a hint that someone else had been in the room.

"You didn't get anything did you?" Tritter asked.

Catherine shut the trunk to her Tahoe as she turned to look at him. "The coroner will look at the body. Until then, I'm not ruling on it either way."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

February 15th

The AM News

"A body was found this morning.. Investigators have identified the body as Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. She died yesterday night around midnight and was discovered by a neighbor around seven this morning when she did not leave the house for her usual morning run. Investigators discovered her lying in her bedroom.

The cause of this death is unknown, but the lead detective of the case, Detective Tritter suspects that it may have been a suicide. Other authorities are not commenting on this case."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

Does this sound interesting? Don't worry Cuddy will still be in this fic even though she's dead. House will be having a lot of flashbacks about his life with her as the story goes on. He'll be trying to solve her murder though in the process of walking down memory lane. It's sad I know, but I just thought it would be interesting. Tell me if it sucks and I should just stop.


	2. 24 Hours

Chapter Two

24 Hours

Thanks to Kris the fanficaholic, starstacey, KewlKid, mj0621, BlkDiamond, bluemoon86, trophydog, hell's-sugarrushed-angel, gh2005, HOUSEM.D.FanForever, Aerocrombie princess, and HouseAddiction for their reviews! They were much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to House. I wish I did, then we would have a lot of Huddy moments. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He barged into Cuddy's office without knocking or even waiting for an answer. Strangely enough, Cuddy had given him the spare key to her office, obviously a huge gesture of trust on her part, or a momentarily lapse of insanity.

Strangely enough, it was empty. That was not normal. House checked his watch. It was past ten. She should've been at work already. He hadn't seen her around the hospital, though he had been looking. He went to her desk and pulled open the drawer, yanking out her planner. She had a meeting at 10:30. She would have been in her office around, getting everything ready.

He was wearing a confused expression when Wilson barged into the office. His eyes were red, obviously from crying.

"Aw, Jimmy. Who broke your toy?" House asked, sarcastically.

Wilson just shook his head. Usually he would throw a weak attempt at returning banter, but now he had none to give.

"Did you see the new this morning?"

A drop in his stomach. House shook his head.

Wilson pulled House out of Cuddy's office and into one of the exam rooms, turning on the TV. House stared at the news cast, feeling disconnected from his body. He leaned his head against his cane, feeling the rush of the cold wood enter his skull, trying his best to counteract the deafening roars in his ears.

He was in denial. He was in pain. He was confused.

"Why?" he asked, his voice choked up in spite of himself.

"They think it was a suicide." Wilson said softly.

House jumped to his feet, anger written on his face.

"It wasn't a damn suicide!" he yelled. "This is Cuddy we're talking about. She would never do something that stupid. She's not weak enough to give up like that. She's too stubborn, too controlling, too…CUDDY!"

Wilson shook his head. "There's a breaking point for everyone." He said.

"Not for her." House said, his voice, strangely quiet, causing Wilson to look up at him.

House realized what Wilson looked like now. A lost puppy. Someone who had had all the direction in the world and was following it step by step when the floor was yanked out from under them. Wilson was lost without Cuddy's direction.

House couldn't blame him.

The ducklings shoved through the narrow door, all three at once. Each wore an expression ranging from confused to disbelief.

"Did she really kill herself?" Foreman asked. He was the favorite duckling of the former Dean of Medicine and had come to care for her as a friend. Her death shocked him.

"Why did she do it?" Cameron added, her eyes were rimmed with red.

"What happens now?" Chase continued. He was the one with the look of utter confusion.

House waited for silence and when it came, he answered, "She didn't kill herself, so the why doesn't matter. And what happens now is that you three go back to the breakroom and check out our case files. There is no use for us to allow her hospital to fall into shambles because she's not here. We can't undo the work she's done since she won't be here to fix it."

They scurried, but Cameron paused at the doorway.

"Did you just make a decision based on human emotion?" she asked.

House glared at her. "No, I made a decision based on how you morons can keep your jobs."

She rolled her eyes and ran out, trying to comprehend how easily it was to lose someone just overnight.

Wilson glanced at him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

House nodded. "Yeah, no one to order me around anymore until the next witch shows up." He muttered.

Wilson punched him. House stared as his rubbed his chin.

"Look, House, I don't care if you don't give a damn about her. I don't care if you look at her like a controlling bitch who's got nothing better to do but to order you around, but don't you dare say anything bad about her in front of me. You want to something? I asked her out. Yeah I did. Yesterday. I never got an answer, but I just want you to know that she did change some of us and she did matter to some of us and some of us cared about her more than your range of human emotions." Wilson said to House.

With that, he walked out the exam room, slamming the door shut behind him.

House didn't move. He stared at the window. It seemed so wrong for the sun to be shining while Cuddy was no longer there to have the rays dance across her face.

He would never admit it, but he loved her. He had loved her more than he had been brave enough to admit. Memories of her life played over and over in his mind and he could not understand how she could have been bantering with him only twelve hours earlier and then suddenly leave without as much as a warning.

If he had known he only had had one day left with her, he would've told her how he felt. How much he loved her, how much he needed her. If he had known he would've had only one day left with her, he would have held her and given her a kiss that would've gone on and on, reliving every one they had left untouched.

He thought he had all the time in the world. Turns out, he didn't.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey Melinda." Catherine Willows greeted as she entered the autopsy room.

Melinda gave her a wave with a latex covered hand. She was bent over a Caucasian male with a couple of stab wounds on his chest.

"So where's my vic?" Catherine asked.

Melinda turned to glance at her strangely. "I thought you knew. The family wanted no autopsy. They decided not to rouse up the media further."

Catherine stared. "What?" she asked.

"Yeah." Melinda said. "I tried to convince that it wasn't a good idea, but they wouldn't hear of it. Said that it was a suicide and just to let her rest in peace."

Catherine shook her head. "It wasn't a suicide." She said. "I don't know why I don't think it is, but it isn't."

Melinda gave her an apologetic look. "Look, talk to the family, friends, talk them into letting me do an autopsy. If it proves your point, I'll be glad to testify to such."

Catherine nodded. "Give me 24 hours." She said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_He first saw her across a crowded room and he hadn't been able to look away since. She had been bent over a thick textbook on medical treatments. She had glasses that had thick black square rims that gave her a serious expression, but when she looked up at him, he had seen right through the glass and into her. _

_She had blue eyes with contrasting dark curly hair that fell to her waist. Of course, being House, he didn't introduce himself in a way that would be considered charming, but she surprised him. _

_For every retort he threw at her, she threw on back in return. She held herself proudly, strongly, as if she knew she was going to find herself on top and was unwillingly to allow anyone the pleasure of getting the better of her. _

_They bonded quickly over late night banters and cups of coffee. No one ever understood how it happened, or how someone like Lisa Cuddy could stand to be even a mile within range of Gregory House, but it did. They bonded and their bond held despite life's twists and turns. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dr. House?" A soft voice came from the doorway to his office.

He looked up to see a strawberry blonde standing before him. She had a bulletproof vest on that said, CSI WILLOWS in bold print.

"I'm out of my mind right now, please leave a message." He stated.

She raised her eyebrows. "Actually I came to ask you a little bit about your boss, Dr. Cuddy." She said.

He sighed and leaned back against his chair. There was a certain extent of weariness about him that Catherine found to be more of a giveaway about this man's physical condition than the cane he carried.

"She didn't kill herself." Was all he said.

She took a seat across from him, without being asked. He didn't object.

"She just wouldn't have done something so pathetic. Tritter's an ass. He's a jerk. I hate his balding guts, and he's stupid enough to believe that someone like Lisa Cuddy would kill herself, then he shouldn't be a cop." He stated.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he chose to just pass it off as a suicide because he's lazy." House muttered.

She took a few notes. "I see." She said.

House looked at her, for a moment, a look of pleading and hope flew across his face.

"Find out who did this." He said. "Find out and give me five minutes with them."

Catherine hesitated.

"She was my best friend." House said. "One of the few that I have. I want to castrate the bastard, but I'll settle for a five minute talk."

"I can't say it wasn't a suicide."

"It wasn't." He replied, shortly. "It wasn't. Just promise me."

She nodded in spite of her best judgment. She had been working this job for many years and could read people better than most. She owed it to her mentor and friend, whom she missed dearly, but could not forgive. However, she had learned many things from him and one was reading emotion even when the wearer did not wish to give it away.

House had the look of a desperate man. He hid it behind biting remarks and gruff appearance, but she wasn't fooled. He was hurting, physically and emotionally. She could tell with a glance that the Cuddy case had a greater impact upon him than he let on. She knew he was a suspect.

She suspected feelings between the two of them, but she didn't voice them out loud. She glanced at Dr. House one more time before leaving his office. The two biggest reasons for murder. Love and Money. However, she found it difficult to believe that Dr. House, even with his attitude, was capable of committing a crime on someone who he tried so hard to hide feelings for.

_This case is just getting stranger and stranger._ She thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mr. and Mrs. Cuddy, I'm so sorry to bother you." She said softly.

"Can we help you?" Mrs. Cuddy was a petite brunette. If Catherine looked closely at her, she could picture her daughter in her. The only difference was that this older woman had more laugh lines along the corners of her mouth and eyes.

No laughter was spared for the moment, however.

"I need to talk to you about your daughter's body." Catherine started. "It would really help push the case farther along, if you give us permission to perform an autopsy."

Mr. Cuddy was already shaking his head. "Our daughter killed herself. There's no use exposing more wounds." He said.

Catherine forced herself to remain calm. No use in losing her temper.

"Sir, I understand that this is a difficult situation for you, but we're not sure it's a suicide."

"The detective seemed pretty sure." Mrs. Cuddy spoke out, dabbing the corner of her eyes.

Mr. Cuddy quieted his wife as he spoke. "Miss you have to understand. Lisa was a very hard working girl. She didn't have a family, or kids, and rarely came home to visit. Her life was her job and her job was very stressful. It seemed plausible that she cracked under the pressure."

She mentally reminded herself to kick him later for such a stupid statement. "Yes, it would appear to be a suicide, however, I have worked many more cases than he has, and I work in forensics. In a suicide case, there are many twists that could potentially prove homicide instead." She said.

They hesitated and Catherine charged forward, driving a stake straight into their heart to win her case.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cuddy. I know you loved your daughter and I know even now, you want what's best for her." Catherine said. "I have a daughter myself and I know I can't even begin to comprehend how you're feeling, but I would have wanted to be sure that my daughter's death was her own decision and not someone else's."

They exchanged glances.

"Please." Catherine said. "Are you positive, Dr. Cuddy would have killed herself? Because if you are even slightly unsure, let me do this autopsy. If it wasn't, you don't want whoever did this to her to get away with murder."

Mr. Cuddy slowly nodded. "Do you what you have to do." He said. "You have our blessing."

Catherine shook his hand and then Mrs. Cuddy's.

"Thank you." She said. "I'll keep in touch."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

How's that so far? I promise there will be more later on with both House and Catherine investigating the case. There will be more flashbacks of Huddy moments if you be patient. Enjoy! Lots of love!


	3. Photograph

Chapter Three

Photograph

Thanks to hippychick21, Kris the fanficaholic, mk0621, BlkDiamond, Boys Don't Cry, hell's-sugarrushed-angel, graybaby1, HOUSEM.D.FanForever, and HouseAddiction for their reviews.

Special thanks to HouseAddiction for catching my mistake with the last chapter and letting know so I could fix it. I apologize for any grammar mistakes or inaccuracies in this chapter in advance!

Disclaimer: I own nothing that has anything to do with House. I don't even own any medical terms. I just wish I did, because then I wouldn't have to work so hard to pass my classes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Detective." Catherine said, annoyed as she entered the police station. "I have a bone to pick with you."

"How can I help you Catherine?" he asked.

She glanced at him for a moment. "Willows." She corrected. "Did you tell the family that the Cuddy death was a suicide?"

"Yeah I did, that's what I put in my police report." He said, all smug and cocky, annoying her to no end.

"Well, I hope you wrote that in pencil, because I just got my hands on the body." She said. "Melinda's gonna take a look at it."

"Are you doubting my skills?" He asked.

She glanced at him, trying to find a way to word her answer so that she wasn't lying or being blunt.

"No, I'm questioning your rush to close this case." She said slowly, unable to keep her words from making any more subtle than that.

He glared at her and she took the moment to walk away under his protruding gaze. She was not afraid of him, nor was she in any way feeling like she needed to succumb to his whim. It took some getting used to in New Jersey where the CSIs didn't lead the case, the detectives did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House sat on her office, twirling his cane between this fingers. He could still catch the slightest traces of her scent in her office. The personal touches she had added to the room also reminded him deeply of her, elegant and sophisticated. The place had a warm cozy feel to it, something she had tried hard to convey, yet right then, it offered him little comfort.

How many times had he sat or stood in this very place, watching her? How many words were exchanged between them in his place? And how many lost moments of affection had they missed?

_Not enough. _He thought to himself. _It'll never be enough._

He hobbled to his feet and traced his fingers along the dark wood of her desk, the piles of paperwork, and the pictures on her desk that she would smile upon whenever the workload became too much.

He looked closely at the pictures now, surprised to find himself in one of the frames. It was a snapshot taken at Michigan University, he remembered it exactly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Are you gonna kiss me or not?" she asked as they sat side by side on a bench overlooking a crystal clear lake. _

"_It depends. How good of a kisser are you? And what flavor is your lip gloss?" He asked. _

"_Never kissed before and strawberry." She responded. _

"_I like watermelon more." He said. _

"_Make strawberry your new favorite." She said with a smirk. _

_A shove from behind both of them and a surprised scream as they both tumbled into the icy cold water. _

_Stacy and Wilson were now laughing from the shoreline. Enclosed in Stacy's hand was a camera._

_The two broke the surface of the water. House with an angry expression, Cuddy with one of pure shock. He swam toward the surface. _

_He pulled her out of the water and pulled off her jacket as she shivered and wrung her wet hair. He just shook his head, getting the culprits of the prank as wet as he was. He replaced it with his own that was still sitting on the bench. He pulled her close to him, using his own body heat to keep her warm. _

_He had yelled at them for a good twenty minutes before Cuddy saved them, simply by placing a gentle hand on his arm. He had shut his mouth immediately as she turned him to face her. He stared straight into her bemused eyes as she laughed at his expression as he pulled a water beetle out of her brown curls. _

_A camera went off in the darkness, capturing for all eternity that moment. Her laugh with eyes sparkling and his rare look of adoration that held more than a touch of love. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They had kissed later on, within the privacy of his bedroom, where no one could push them into freezing lakes or take pictures when they were wet. He had decided then that strawberry was his favorite and always would be. He smiled to himself even though his heart was heavy. She may be dead, but she was still there, ever present in him.

He pulled out one of her drawers and noticed a bright red file sitting on the top of another stack of bills and paperwork. He opened it and gasped.

Cuddy had been planning on another sperm donor. This confirmed what he had already been sure of. She still wanted children and was planning ahead. He snatched up the folder and made his way to the police station.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The police station was a building House was familiar with. He knew so was Cuddy. She had ran in and out of this building, haggling, debating, and arguing with Tritter over House's drug charge. In the end, she had put her own life on the line to save his ass…again.

The station was big, but the section that was actually for cops was small. On the other side of the police desks and chairs was a hallway that led to what House knew to be the crime lab and the morgue. The hospital had a morgue as well, but once his mind traveled to that place, he got a vivid picture of Cuddy lying lifeless on one of those cold metal tables.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked as House entered the station, holding the file close to him in one hand.

"I need to talk to anyone who knows anything about the Cuddy case. No wait, that girl. What was her name? Willows!" he said hurriedly.

"Just a moment."

"I don't have a moment!" he yelled at her. "I have something that proves that Cuddy didn't kill herself."

"Hey calm down." Catherine said, emerging from behind him. "What is it that you have?"

He shoved the folder at her.

"This! She wanted children. She told me so herself, but there was a while where she just stopped talking about it. I thought she'd given up trying, but this proves she hadn't." He said.

Catherine opened the folder. She had majored in medical technology in college so she knew what the small words printed on the pages meant. Lisa Cuddy was looking for a sperm donor.

She motioned for House to follow her as she led him through the blue tinted halls and into her office, where she motioned for him to sit down.

"Dr. House, just how close were you with your boss?" she asked, her expression told him that she would tolerate no lies or dancing around the bush.

"We were best friends. We dated in college, but that was a long time ago." House said.

Catherine shook her head. "Please describe how that was. It may help shed some light to what kind of person Dr. Cuddy was."

He hesitated. Talking about his feelings was the last thing he wanted to do. Talking about the past was painful. The memories jaded and cut. He had to though. He had let Cuddy down way to many times in the past and now was the one time he could not. He owed her too much not to tell every little thing that could help find her killer.

"We had an entourage made of Cuddy, me, James Wilson, and Stacy Warner." He started. "We started dating once we were both in medical school. I like her for her sass and she likes me for God knows what."

Catherine smiled a little. College years were full of memories that never ceased to touch anyone no matter how old they were.

"We broke up after I graduated. I wanted to see the world, explore, be independent and she let me. That was the good thing about her. She worked as my intern for a few years before disappearing out of Michigan. The next time I saw her it was her sitting as the Dean of Medicine while I was sitting before her wanting to work for her."

"Successful woman." Catherine commented.

"You have no idea." House said softly.

"Give me an idea." Catherine said.

"She was so stubborn. She was upset that she graduated second on her class. She's the youngest woman to hold the position she has now and she does it so well. She brought PPTH from one of the worst hospitals in the country to one of the best."

"She's good at her job." Catherine said, probing House further.

He knew what she was trying to do and easily allowed himself to answer. There was no harm, but he felt like he had to ramble, rant, something to convince her that Lisa Cuddy would not throw her life away.

"She's tough. I mean I admit I'm an ass to her and I enjoy every minute of it. But she lets my comments roll off of her like water and throw her own responses back. She tries to save the world and when she can't. She lies awake in guilt and vows to do better next time. She wouldn't just kill herself. She would think of everyone she would hurt and how it could affect her patients." House said.

There was a moment of silence.

"She wouldn't allow anyone to feel the pain of losing someone that was in their life." House added softly.

Unconsciously, Catherine reached out and gently patted House's hand. He raised his head up to look at her, straight at her. She returned his gaze with one of her own.

"I don't believe it's a suicide." She said slowly and deliberately. "I got permission to perform an autopsy. The coroner has her now. I'll call you with any results."

That was the best she could do and he knew that was the most he could get.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When he entered his office, his team was already sitting in the break room. Papers opened before them. Chase was twirling one of House's markers as he pondered the possible diagnosis. The board, however, remained empty of symptoms.

"We have another case." Cameron said as House sat down at the head of the table.

"Okay. Symptoms?" he asked.

Not a word from anyone.

"What's going on?" he asked. "And Chase put down my marker before I beat you with my cane."

Foreman answered slowly. "Who's gonna call the shots when Cuddy's not here anymore?" he asked.

House paused, observing the younger doctor. "No one." He said simply. "Let's pretend she's still here and what she would have decided goes."

Cameron was not the only one who noticed the forlorn look in House's eyes. He quickly pushed it away, redirecting his attention and the attention of his team back to the case. Back to work. Back to facts that had nothing to do with him. That he had no personal regard for. It was easier, simpler, less painful.

"Symptoms." He said, getting up and pushing Chase out of the way and snatching the marker back.

Chase made a face at House before starting the chain of facts. "Twenty five year old male. Came in with what seemed like the flu."

"Then maybe it was a flu." House said, turning back to them.

Cameron shook her head. "His fever was up to almost 104 degrees. And then he had a seizure while still in the waiting room. The flu virus doesn't do that to patients."

House jotted this down and then gave Foreman the 'go-on' expression.

"Patient is disoriented. Has had multiple seizures after being admitted and has had the fever for at least four days now." He said.

House wrote all this down. "Ideas people."

"Could be an infection." Cameron said. "The fever is a visible sign."

"Could be viral." Chase added.

"Do you think it could be autoimmune?" Foreman wondered out loud.

"Are you asking me?" House asked.

Foreman rolled his eyes. "No, but it's possible."

"At this moment, anything is possible." House said frankly. "Anything that stood out about his lifestyle?"

"No, just a recent college graduate. Girlfriend is healthy. No family history of disease. His CT scan is normal and so is his MRI." Cameron said.

"Run the CT scan again." House said.

"But we already did. It was clear." Chase protested.

"Do a cripple a favor." House said. "Shut up and run it again."

Cameron shrugged. "Fine." She said, "I'll do it."

House turned to look at the two remaining doctors. "One of you go and go through his house. Every nook and cranny. The other one, get some coffee."

They looked at him confused.

"The one with coffee is staying here to tonight to watch the patient for any change in condition." He said, turning around and heading out of the department door.

Behind his back, Chase and Foreman did rock, paper, scissors with Chase swearing when he lost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Melinda glanced at the body laid on her table before her. She shook her head at the waste of life. She would never understand why people do such things, but she had to force herself to face the reality of the world everyday. This time was no different.

She read the name tag. Lisa Cuddy. She recalled Catherine mentioning the case to her. On a whim, she added "Dr." before the woman's toe tag. It just seemed proper not to forget what the woman had been when she had been alive.

She scraped underneath her fingernails and bagged the scrapings, hoping for some hint of who had done such a horrendous murder.

Catherine came in through the morgue doors.

"Is that my vic?" she asked.

Melinda nodded. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine." She said softly.

"Is it a suicide?" Catherine asked, getting straight to the point.

Melinda shook her head. "No way." She pointed to the neck and said. "You see those bruises on her neck? Poor baby fought like hell. The overlap of the bruises show that the killer pushed, released, and then pushed again. Usually choking is death under a minute, but in this case, it must have dragged on for nearly an hour. She fought like hell."

Catherine put that fact into her mind. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Melinda said. "The cuts on her wrists were done after she died."

Catherine had a curious expression on her face. "The crime scene though, the blood splatter seemed pretty accurate for a cutting suicide." She said.

"I'm guessing the killer knew what blood does after death and what it's supposed to look like in this kind of suicide. Killer was careful. I got no hairs or fibers off the body. Though he or she must have slipped up when this fighter here, refused to die." Melinda said.

Catherine nodded. "It must have been extremely painful."

"She was a fighter all right. Tore up a few of her nails, fighting." Melinda said. "You're looking for someone who knows forensics or at least the properties of the human body, both while it's alive and afterward. Probably a doctor or someone who is familiar with crime."

Catherine sighed. "Being as she worked in the highest position at a hospital, I won't run short of suspects."

Melinda gave her a sympathetic smile. "Good luck. Catch the bastard won't you?"

Catherine gave her a smile in return. "You know I'll give it everything I've got."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_She felt rough hands closed around her throat, cutting off her scream. She struggled in every way possible as her lungs demanded air. She scratched her assailant leaving long red open gashes on his back. He let out a snarl as he backhanded her across the face. _

_She squirmed away, trying to find anything to retaliate against him with. He was faster though, refastening his hands around her throat. She felt the blackness cling at the edges of her vision as her body reacted to the abuse. _

_She kicked him hard only to be struck again. She couldn't tell where the blow had come from. She fell on the floor and tried to get to her feet, screaming at her trembling legs to run, hard, fast. She had nearly made it to the door when she was struck from behind. _

_She tried to kick out, but her arms wouldn't move. In a moment of fear and weakness she closed her eyes, not wanting her last memory to be of her killer, who cruelly took her life too early. She reopened them and focused on the picture on her bedside table. Tears forming in her eyes as she realized her mistake too many years too late. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

There's the next chapter everybody. I haven't quite decided who the killer is going to be yet, strangely enough, but I already have a twist planned on it. I just want to figure out if this is a good result. I know who I think should be the killer, but I don't know if people will still like this story if I make this person the killer. It depends on how much people like this certain person but I think it would be a good idea. I might just go with it. Hehe…I'm rambling. Remember people this is just a story, if you don't like the end results, know I don't mean anything by it. I just wanted a good twist at the end. I hope I didn't give too much away. Lol. Thanks for reading!


	4. Fingerprints

Chapter Four

Fingerprints

Thanks to Kris the fanficaholic, mk0621, ang catalonan, hell's-sugarrushed-angel, Crazy Mokis, Boys Don't Cry, DrusillaBraun, house4cuddy, Scuddyrific, HOUSEM.D.FanForever, BlkDiamond, and HouseAddiction for their reviews! Thanks so much for your support!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in House. Or else I would be rich. No profit made. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Detective!" Catherine called as she slipped into the police department door. "A word please."

Tritter turned around to see Catherine, field kit in hand.

"How can I help?" He asked, surveying her black and white silk black with fitted black slacks. Her hair was pinned up in a half updo that looked neat and feminine, but her expression was serious without a hint of a smile.

"I need police protection," She stated matter-of-factly. "I need to revisit the Cuddy crime scene."

"We already agreed it was a suicide." Tritter said with a chuckle.

Catherine handed him the file tucked her arm. "I hope you wrote 'suicide' in pencil on your police report, because the M.E.'s ruled it as a homicide."

"I can't believe this." Tritter said, his eyes only skimming the file.

"Believe it." Catherine said irritably.

Tritter looked almost annoyed as she led him to the door and they piled into her Tahoe.

"I don't see why you've taken such an interest in this case. The family didn't want an autopsy, you practically forced them into a corner." He noted.

She put on her sunglasses and pulled out of the parking lot. She liked being the driver of the car. She didn't know why but it was a habit she had grown into ever since her days in Vegas. Her heart tightened at the memory but only for a moment. Already, her mind was racing through all possible scenarios of the case she was currently working.

"I didn't force them to do anything. They wanted answers and I wanted to give them a correct one, not the one that I came up with because I was too lazy to investigate the case thoroughly." Catherine said.

She meant it as a barb to his work and they both knew it. He glared at her and desperately wanted to throw back a retort, however, he could not. He knew her past, the abusive husband, the drugs, the former stripper days, all of it. The resume she had presented had held nothing back, as if she had nothing to be ashamed of. He, however, could not make a barb about any aspect of her past and life that she would not brush off and turn against him. It was easier just to keep silent.

So in stony silence, they drove the rest of the way to the home of Dr. Lisa Cuddy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The yard had yet to show signs of neglect. The neat flowerbeds and perfectly trimmed bushes gave the impression that the owner of the home loved to be neat and orderly and expected her surroundings to be the same way.

Inside her home, gave the same impression. The rooms were neat, yet looked welcoming and comfortable. The fireplace still held the remains of ashes, suggesting that someone had been sitting before it not so long ago.

The bedroom was still blocked off with yellow crime scene tape. It still held the pungent smell of dried blood mingled with the scented lavender candles, that would have been nicely pleasant had it not been tainted with the smell of blood. It was a sickening scent that made Catherine want to purge out her inners, despite however hard boiled crime scene investigator she was.

She forced her mind to stop its dizzying spins and snapped open her field kit. She had gone through the entire crime scene once already, but first impressions were not always correct. She had bagged only limited evidence and now she wanted to have another crack at it, from a new case perspective.

Tritter looked bored from the doorway.

"Go wait in the car." She said plainly. "Call me if someone approaches."

He was more than happy to oblige. The crime scene made him antsy.

When he was gone, she could focus. It was easier to take her time when she had no one breathing down her back and trying to talk her into giving it up. With a grim smile she went to work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"He's got tick-borne encephalitis." House announced as he circled the diagnosis on his white board.

"What?" Foreman demanded. "That can't be possible.

"Why not? All the symptoms fit and it just sounds cool." House said.

"You have no physical proof." Cameron cried.

"You know I was just kidding about it sounding cool right?" House asked.

"The man is right." Chase observed, his voice sounding far off. "The meningitis was a symptom."

"Do you know how rare TBE is?" Cameron asked.

"Very, but still possible." House said. "None of you know how to break into houses. Did you know that he has rats in his apartment?"

"Sorry I didn't check under the dresser." Cameron muttered.

"You didn't have to. It was under his bed." House said, pretending to take her seriously.

"You can't just give a patient TBE treatment based on a hunch." Foreman said.

"Why not?"

"Because it would be unethical and Cuddy would kill you." Wilson interjected from the doorway.

House winced at the choice of words, the reality of it all once again crashing down upon him. He forced the dark waves of grief away from himself.

"Fine somebody get his blood out of the fridge in the lab and actually look at in through a microscope. This is the reason why doctors haven't been replaced by electronic pieces of metal. They don't have eyes." House said, his mocking tone suddenly weary.

They scurried.

"It only takes one of you." He yelled after them. "One of you get him started on corticosteroids."

He saw them reach the end of the hallway and branch out, Cameron toward the patient's room while Foreman and Chase headed toward the lab.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House gunned the engine of his motorcycle as he flew out of the parking lot. He dared to go faster, as if escaping all the demons that were chasing him down, each trying to grapple and destroy a part of his mind and body. They were currently winning. He had been falling so hard and fast that he never knew how he would ever pick himself from the bottom of Hell.

Cuddy had seen his turmoil. His pain and she had stepped in. Stepped in and forced him to stand on his feet. She made openings for him that he would have never been able to force open had she not be there. She saved him again and again, from jail, from people, and from death itself. She had focused so much of her time and energy into protecting him that she had let her own guard down. A mistake that costed more than either of them could pay.

Without being consciously aware of it, he drove toward Cuddy's house, finally realizing where he was when he stopped. The bedroom light was one and the driveway was deserted. Curiosity and anger got the best of him. He imagined some punk kid going through Cuddy's private life, the life she had always been careful to conceal from her colleagues. He felt red hot anger at the thought of someone intruding on that privacy.

He threw open the front door and marched straight into bedroom, ready to yell, rant, and beat up anyone in the room with his cane. What he got was a bewildered redhead and a gun pointed in his face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What the hell?" Catherine exclaimed, her eyes as round and big as saucers, though she did not lower her gun.

House didn't move. For most people, their instinct is to raise their hands and yell don't shoot, but House was different. He stared down at the barrel of the gun, remembering the pain that a little piece of metal could do and then remembering the warm touch of Cuddy as she struggled to keep him alive.

"I thought there was a burglar or something." He said lamely.

"Dr. House, this is a crime scene." Catherine said exasperated and lowering her weapon. "I can't risk you contaminating the evidence."

"Sorry." He muttered. "I didn't know.

"The police car in the driveway should've tipped you off and Detective Tritter should have informed you of the circumstances before you entered the house." She said, all profession, and slightly annoyed.

Her mentor had no tolerance for people walking onto the crime scene and always made that clear. She had always played diplomat, though it annoyed her, she was never angered by it until she moved to New Jersey and realized that so crime scenes and forensics were not put in the highest regard like in Vegas. She missed the desert and the people she had left behind.

"There was no police car." House stated.

"What?" She asked, surprised. "He should be out there…" But one peek out of the window told her that he wasn't. He had left long ago, leaving her there without a ride and without protection.

She felt a flash of annoyance. Too many times had she seen how one little mistake like a cop leaving for coffee could turn into a disaster.

"That means I have to go." She sighed. "I didn't realize that I've been here for so long."

"How long?" he asked.

"At least six hours." She said.

House noticed for the first time the brown paper bags on the floor and smaller transparent plastic bags that held swabs and various other pieces of evidence.

"Wow." He said. "Why didn't you get these the first time you were here?"

"I was occupied." Catherine replied vaguely.

He glanced at her, reading her as he would read other people.

"Tritter was trying to make you hurry up." He said.

"When did I say that?" she asked.

"Your face did. You flushed, which means it's not an answer you're comfortable with, so that rules out anything that isn't personal. Anything personal would mean a boyfriend or at least someone you hang around a lot. You don't have a boyfriend because if you did, you wouldn't be working so late which means it's someone you hang around a lot. Since you're tan tells me you're not from around her, that means it's someone at work, because those are the only people you would hang around. At work means someone who was here when the crime scene was first examined, which tells me it's Tritter because he's the lead detective on the case." House reasoned.

She was watching him with eyes slightly filled with awe.

"You should've been a cop." She said.

He felt a slight headache come on, eyeing the blood soaked sheets on the bed. He popped Vicodin into his mouth before he answered.

"No, I don't want to be a jackass and ruin people's lives." He said bitterly.

"You have an issue with Tritter." Catherine reasoned.

"Wow you must be like a genius or something." House said sarcastically.

"Get out, Dr. House." She said, through gritted teeth. "Please, I want anything I bring to court to be valid and true. I can't have you contaminating the crime scene."

"I'm gone." He said simply. "Good luck getting a ride."

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her cell phone, as he limped out the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_They were best friends. All four of them, walking around campus as if they owned it; Stacy, a privileged, put-together, only child with a rich background from New Jersey: Wilson the young jock that had boyish charm and was one of the sweetest boys ever. _

_And then there was him and Lisa Cuddy. She was the youngest of four, he was one of two. She was dedicated and hard working. He preferred to slack off and waste time. She was brilliant and so was he. They battled, loved, and batted again, the most natural process in the world. _

"_I don't care Greg." She whispered softly. "Just for tonight stay with me." _

_He held her close to him. They had never spent the night together. She was worried about her reputation and he had left it at that, not wanting to push her. She would've have given in anyway. _

"_Are you sure? People will talk." He said softly, his voice muffled by her hair. _

"_I don't care right now." She said. "They'll talk anyway. Just don't let me be alone." _

_She was so small, so scared. Her eldest sister was in the hospital and no one knew what was wrong with her. She had been on the phone with her mother all night, asking questions and going through every medical textbook she could find in the library to find some explanation. It had all been useless because doctors were unwilling to listen to her ideas, especially since she had yet to even attend medical school. _

"_It'll be okay." He said softly. _

"_You don't know that." She threw back. _

_She was right. He had no idea and he knew he shouldn't pretend nor did he want to. _

"_You're right. I don't know, but there's nothing you can do right now." He murmured. "Here go in the bathroom, wash your face and take a hot shower."_

_He gave her the gentlest little push toward the bathroom and she obeyed, sniffling. He picked up the phone and pressed redial. The shower was too loud for Cuddy to hear him yelling into the phone as he offered but his own ideas. Five minutes later, he hung up with a satisfied smile. _

_She stepped out of the shower five minutes later, her wet hair sticking to her face. Her eyes still red from crying. He slung his arm around her and held her tight through the night as she fell asleep in his arms. He wiped away the tears staining her still wet face as he wrapped her in a blanket and held her closer. He fell asleep with her head on his chest. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He smiled to himself as the memory filled his mind as he drove down the road toward his own apartment. The motorcycle roared as he pushed it faster and faster, enjoying the adrenaline pumping through his system.

She never knew what he had done that night. He never told her, but he could never forget the expression on her face when her mother called and told her that the doctors had figured it out. She never found out that it had been House's diagnosis. He didn't care. All he wanted was to see her smile. That smile she reserved only for special occasions, mostly for him. The smile that held nothing back, no guards, no walls, no sign of the broken world that continually tried to tear her to pieces. It was a smile he would live and die for.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was nearly three in the morning and Catherine had yet to sleep. Dayshift was killing her. She was used to nights, where the moon was out and her brain managed to function as quickly as if she had slept for three days straight. The time change was affecting her, but she didn't allow it to affect her work.

Hot cup of coffee in hand she was almost cross eyed from the microscope as she compared hair and fibers. Nothing stood out immensely to her. The only thing she learned was that there had been a cat in the house at one time or another.

She moved on to fingerprints. She had managed to lift a few of them. All of Dr. Cuddy's had been accounted for. There were just a few that had yet to be run. Two on the bedpost, one on the dresser and another on her bedside table.

The one on the dresser and the table turned out to be Cuddy's. The two on the bedpost however were not.

She ran them through AFIS and her eyes became wide as she felt her case take a new unexpected turn that sickened her.

The name on the print came back clear as crystal.

Gregory House.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

So…who's freaking out? Lol. Alright alright. I won't spoil it for you by telling you what happens to anyone, but guys try not to kill me for this. There are a lot more twists and turns on the way. Special thanks to BlkDiamond for helping me with some ideas for this plot. Try not to kill me for this twist. Lol. Enjoy! There's more coming soon.


	5. Guilty

Chapter Five

Guilty

Thanks to Mispent Youth, FoxyWombat, graybaby1, starstacey, mj0621, Huddytheultimate, HouseAddiction, Savannah, ang catalonan, hell's-sugarrushed-angel, Crazy Mokis, Boys Don't Cry, DrusillaBraun, house4cuddy, Scuddyrific, and HOUSEM.D.FanForever for their reviews!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine sat in a dark closed off room at the police station, fingering the gold butterfly necklace she wore around her neck and watching the man that sat across from her. Her first judgment of another human being was rarely ever incorrect. Her instinct was never wrong when she wasn't blinded by love or previous betrayal. Now she was questioning that instinct and how she could be drastically wrong.

Tritter was pacing the room behind the scruffy man seated at the cold wooden table. He pretended to be thoughtful, almost kind when he began a long interrogation.

"Dr. House, it's good to see you again." He started.

"Go to hell." House threw back, menace burrowed deep in his voice.

Catherine interjected before Tritter could drive the man into further anger. House was taller than Tritter, but he always slouched so his true height was impossible to determine. What Catherine noticed that Tritter did not was the feral wild look that haunted House's drawn eyes. It could have been two things. Fear of being blamed or fear of being caught. Both were just as likely.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, cutting in.

"I DIDN'T!" He roared at her, losing his temper, mind, and sanity. "I WOULDN'T DO ANYTHING TO EVER HURT HER! I FUCKING LOVED HER!"

This outburst was followed by silence. Catherine was watching House hard. Tritter wasn't.

"I didn't know you two were that close." Tritter whispered.

House froze. He knew he had said too much. His entire life was his own, his will, his stubbornness, his pain. He never shared it with anyone and his love for Lisa Cuddy had always been his secret. He never wanted to be exposed, vulnerable and in a split second he had become all those things in front of the last person that would do anything to help him.

He gave Catherine a bitter smile. Cuddy brought out the best in him and how ironic it was that she would bring out the worst in him as well.

Tritter continued. "You know the top two reasons why people killed are for love and money."

He stayed silent.

Tritter gave him a twisted smile as he found the best way to break House's shell.

"Here's what I think." He said. "I think you found out Wilson was in love with her as well. You, loving her so much, confronted her on it. You find out she didn't return your feelings. You get mad, start arguing, and then what started out as a talk became violent and you lost it." Tritter said.

He saw the first dent in House's shell.

He smiled again and kept going. "So you choke her, but you were blinded by your anger. She fights you and that pisses you off more. You keep going until she stops moving. Then it hits you that she's dead and that you're physical evidence is all over the crime scene. So you had to cover your ass. Working in a hospital that wasn't hard; you disinfect everything. Dr. Cuddy already had all the materials right under her sink. Then you take it a step further. You make it look like a suicide, you slash her wrists.

"NO!" House roared, jumping to his feet, wincing at the pain that shot through his leg, protesting at his roughness. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU LYING SON OF A BITCH!"

"House!" Catherine yelled, raising her voice, silencing both of them with frosty blue eyes.

"Dr. House you're fingerprints were found on the headboard of her bed, where her body was found." She said. "It's not looking good for you, so you better explain how they got there."

House sighed, his chest heaving from his outburst.

"Please sit down." Catherine said, motioning for him to take a seat.

House obeyed…unwillingly. He was trembling, from grief or anger he couldn't tell.

"Tell me what happened." Catherine coaxed, sending Tritter a glare that clearly said shut-the-fuck-up.

House took a trembling breath. "The day before she died, I slept with her." He started before he felt the first onset of tears.

Catherine was listening intently. "Please continue Dr. House."

"My leg was in pain. I went to her house to beg for morphine to ease it." House flicked a glance at Tritter, who to his credit, remained silent.

"She opened the door and refused. I begged, but she didn't give in. I lost my temper." He said. Memories began to fill his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_House I said no." Cuddy said, her voice firm, leaving no room for discussion. _

"_I'm sorry, I thought I remembered me missing a muscle." He hissed at her. _

"_It's in your head House." Cuddy said. _

"_That's what Wilson said." _

"_He's right." _

"_What? Is he right because you're sleeping with him?"_

"_I'm not sleeping with anyone House." Cuddy replied shortly. _

"_Then why is he giggling like a schoolgirl?" House demanded. _

_She hesitated. _

"_You are…" He said. _

"_No!" she snapped. "He asked me out." _

"_WHEN?" He roared. _

"_This morning." She said slowly, slightly fearful of his sudden display of temper. _

"_Did you say yes?" he asked, more quietly, catching the look of startlement in her blue eyes and reading it like a book. _

"_I didn't give him an answer." She said her tone becoming more brisk. _

"_Can I tell him?" he asked. _

"_What do you--?" Cuddy began, but was cut off by the taste of House's mouth upon hers. _

_She kissed back like it was instinct. It was so natural to be in his arms. But then reality caught up with her and demanded that she become logical and practical and in control of her raging emotions. _

"_Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice small. _

"_Because we're both lonely and needing something that the other has." He murmured in her ear. "And because Wilson isn't nearly as fun as I am." _

"_House…." She began again, but then stopped as he trailed kisses down her neck. _

"_Cuddy, I don't love you. I don't even want to date you, but I need the morphine." He said roughly. _

"_I can't indulge you House." She said. _

"_Yes you can." He replied. "I just don't want you with Wilson. If I have to take his place I will, but as sad as it is, I do care about you slightly."_

_She watched him curiously as his continued. "He'll cheat on you."_

"_I know." She said softly, watching him, allowing the darkness of the night to mask her face. _

_Then she smiled and started toward his bedroom, not closing the door, knowing he would follow. The clunking of his cane and the dragging of his feet told her that her intuition was not incorrect. She never was when it came to him. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To House's shame, he was crying, hard and fast; his sobs coming broken and loud. He should have told her everything. He wished he had. Truth be told he thought he had every second of every day to tell her. He told himself that he could at any time he chose, just chose not to. He never knew that something like this would happen.

"We spent an three hours together and then I got a call from the hospital. I left and she spent the rest of the night alone. I never thought something like this would've happened." House said, barely able to make out the words between body racking sobs. "I should've stayed with her."

Catherine reached out and took his hand. "There was nothing you could've done." She said gently.

She gathered her files and headed out the room with Tritter right behind her.

Once outside she looked back one more time, watching House expel his guilt and pain.

"You're just going to let him go?" Tritter demanded.

"I can't allow you to charge him with anything, not until we disprove his story." She said shortly.

"You can't just let him go." Tritter threw back.

Catherine whirled. "According to history, you were the one that was so ready to accept that this case was a suicide, what's changed?"

Tritter hesitated, just long enough to make Catherine slightly suspicious. "Because I want to catch the killer." He said.

"Right." Catherine said. "I'm going to check out his story and run down the rest of the fibers and blood I collected at the scene."

He watched her go, with a concerned expression on his face. Then he glanced at House. With a shake of his head, he pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He couldn't stop and hated himself for his lack of control. The guilt seeped through his pores and poisoned him. He never felt guilt in his life. He never understood why it kept Cuddy awake at night or why she cried about it, at least, not until now.

He knew why now. He knew why she cried and the pain she felt every night because he now felt it too. He thought his physical pain had been horrible, but the emotional burden he was now feeling was twice as bad.

_I should have stayed with her._ He thought. _I shouldn't have left her alone. I should've been there._

With that thought, he popped another Vicodin into his mouth, knowing it wouldn't work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

There's the next chapter everyone! I hope you liked it!


	6. Memories of the Way You Used to Be

Chapter Six

Memories of the Way You Used to Be

Thanks to mj0621, DrusillaBraun, Boys Don't Cry, Scuddyrific, HOUSEM.D.FanForever, Crazy Mokis, Mispent Youth, BlkDiamond, ang catalonan, huddyluvr, Nikelodean, JusticeIsBlind13, Huddytheultimate, HouseAddiction, and dottid for their reviews.

Disclaimer: All things House belong to David Shore, Fox, and their rightful owners. No rights reserved. No profit made. Written purely for entertainment purposes. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was cold the next day and the frosty air brought back bitter memories for House as he wrapped himself tighter in his coat. It had been February when he had decided to leave Michigan in search of something to ease his restlessness and boredom. He had expected her to stop him, to beg him not to leave her, but she didn't. She merely smiled at him and told him that she understood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"You're not gonna ask me to stay?" he asked bewildered._

She merely shook her head as she snapped her heavy human anatomy book shut. "Greg, I knew that when I made the decision to date you, you were not going to stay very long."

He just looked at her, his face void of any emotion.

She continued. "I knew you were a brilliant man. You need constant mental gratification and I knew one day I wouldn't be able to satisfy you. I knew you would need to move on, not just in a relationship, but in your surroundings."

She kissed his cheek and stayed that close to him for a moment as he enclosed her small frame in his arms. 

"You're wrong," he whispered in her arm.

She pulled away and glanced at him curiously. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm not leaving because I'm bored of you." he said gruffly. 

She sat down beside him and tilted her head to one side, obviously asking him to explain further. He sighed as he gave in to her wishes. He would never deny her, that's why he had been so scared to tell her. If she had asked him to stay, if she had even looked at him with that look that suggested that she wanted him to stay, he would have given in and never left. But she didn't. He would never know why she didn't stop him and he would end up thinking about it for the rest of his life and still never figure out the puzzle. 

"I'm leaving because I'm bored of this place. I want to see new things, I want more interesting cases." He said. "I feel like a waste in this place."

She felt a jolt of guilt go through her. He was staying because of her. Because he wanted to wait until she graduated so that they could be together. Her graduation wasn't schedule until another two years and she knew he was getting antsy. It wasn't her fault she was young. It wasn't her fault at all, but she knew him well. If she held him back, he would learn to resent her and she could never live with it if that happened.

So she did what she had always done. She sacrificed what she wanted for someone she loved. She forced a brave face and gave him her blessing enclosed in a sweet kiss. They spent on last night together, tangled in each other's arms, whispering final good byes, sweet nothings, and empty promises that would be forgotten with the coming of the first break of day. Allowing their bodies to touch skin to skin and confirming their feelings for each other one last time.

She saw him off at the airport and told him that if he ever needed anything to call her. He kissed her one last time and she had turned away, unable to keep the wet tears from filling her eyes, and refusing to let him see. He had looked back one more time and saw her retreating back, away from him, not knowing when he would see her again, and if he did, under what circumstances. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine was hunkered over her electron microscope. Her evidence on the Cuddy case was way too limited and she was running out of options. She glanced at her cell phone and wrung her hands. She needed help, but the one person that could help her was the one person that she never wanted to see. She put her face in her hands and groaned but when she finally drew her hands from her face and placed them back upon the evidence table, it landed on a photo.

Dr. Lisa Cuddy, smiling and happy, in snapshot that was taken at a benefit for cancer research. Her blue eyes were sparkling as she stood between two men that Catherine recognized as Wilson and House. Wilson was looking at the camera with a smile full of boyish charm, but House was looking at Cuddy and Catherine was startled for a moment to see the ragged face of the man she knew completely changed. The man in the photo was looking at the woman beside him with a gentle and soft look in his eyes as if the rest of the world had vanished and it was only her and him.

She quickly placed the photo back in the file and then her eyes fell to another piece of paper. It was the notes that had been taken regarding Cuddy's life. As she read, her heart sickened. It was heart wrenching to know that her victim had spent her entire life working toward becoming a doctor and then working toward the status that she had held. She gave up friends, love, and family for it and then it was snatched away from her way too early.

Gritting her teeth, she made the phone call she never wanted to make. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Las Vegas Crime Lab." A man's voice said.

Catherine's heart quickened at the sound. "Gil?'

"Catherine?" He exclaimed, surprise obvious in his tone.

"Yeah hey." She started, hesitating between words. "I uh, got a case here in New Jersey and I need a hand."

Moment of silence and Catherine felt stupid for even calling, for asking the her best friend to help her when the last thing she had said to him was that she wanted him out of her life.

"I'll be there tonight." He said.

Then the phone clicked in her ear and she was left with silence and her own ravaging emotions. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House sat in her office, flipping through her planner. He didn't know why he tortured himself this way, didn't know why he had to give himself a constant reminder of her absence, but he did.

Her planner was full as usual, full of things she would never do. A meeting she would never speak at, a benefit she would never attend, a dinner party that she would never attend. It was torturous for him, but he convinced himself that he needed the pain, he needed the grief.

She had been the one thing in his life that made him human. She was the one person that he had allowed past his wall of bitter sorrows and touched his heart. He made her human. He needed that. Without her, he realized that she had been the only person that could him from withdrawing completely into himself.

He wanted to feel the pain and grief of her death. He wanted it to hit him full on and tear him apart. Then he would have a reason, a reason with no exceptions to hate the world he was in. To defy fate and life altogether and despise the world that had taken his one blessing and the person he needed the most. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Stacy was coming back from Baltimore for a conference when she got the call. Wilson's weary voice hit a chord in her.

"Wilson?" she asked as she realized with a start that something was desperately wrong. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Wilson let out a tired sigh. "It's Cuddy, have you seen the news yet?" he asked.

"No, I've been in a conference for the past four days and a plane ride for the 6 hours earlier." She answered, tucking the phone under one ear and marching toward her cab. 

"Lisa's been murdered." He said.

She never noticed the way his voice dropped with sorrow or the way he had no hesitation using Cuddy's first name when habit had formed to always use her last. She never noticed because she dropped the phone and collapsed on the side of the cab in broken sobs.

She was home within hours, moving up her flight. Her husband was waiting for her, but she didn't spare him a second thought. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying on the plane and she pushed him away to his confusion. She had long since dried her tears but she knew what she had to do.

With her husband following behind her, wanting her attention, she marched right up to the counter and bought the next ticket to New Jersey, which was in thirty minutes.

"You just got back. Where are you going?" Mark demanded.

"New Jersey." She retorted bluntly.

"Back to House? I thought we were over this phase." Mark said, his voice rising to a shout. Anger getting the better of him.

She spun and faced him with a look of annoyance and grief on her face. "For God's sake, Mark stop being so paranoid. I'm not going back to New Jersey for House. Lisa just died recently." She said, then her voice broke.

He was stunned into silence. Even he remembered his wife's best friend. He hated being in the hospital due to House's constant presence, but Lisa had always been pleasant enough. He recalled her with vague detail, but knew that inspite of his discontentment, no matter what he said, Stacy had made up her mind. She was going to New Jersey and Mark would have been an idiot to try and stop her.

He kissed her on the cheek. "Go." He said gruffly, letting her known exactly how unhappy he was, a small part of him wanting to guilt her into staying.

She was blind to any manipulative tactics. All she wanted was to get back to New Jersey and find out for herself what was going on. She never thought of life without her best friend around for late night calls. She and Cuddy may have not talked in a while due to both their hectic schedules, but she always considered the doctor to be her closest friend and secret keeper. She closed her eyes as she boarded the plane, sending up a silent prayer as she twirled her golden cross. She knew what Cuddy would have wanted her to do and as a friend, Stacy was determined to keep the promise she had made.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine's breath caught when she saw the sight of a familiar figure walking toward her. Yet he was different than she remembered. His hair was grayer than before and he slouched more heavily than ever as if time and life had worn away his strength. She rushed to embrace him and for a moment, they were lost in old promises and a friendship that had been changed carelessly into nothing but another fragment of a painfully beautiful memory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Stacy saw Wilson first. He was in the elevator when it opened to allow her entry. He stared at her. She stared back with a gaze that matched his in sadness and pain. Without a word, they embraced each other. In the middle of that elevator, the doors beeping at them to move away, yet the two friends completely ignoring it.

The tears came in a rush from both of them as they realized that they missed each other and the shame that the only reason they were once again in each other's prescence was because tragedy had struck the last person they expected it to.

"How is he?" Stacy asked.

"I'm not sure. On the outside he's dealing, but I can't get a good read on exactly how much he's hurting. The only person who could ever get a complete read on him was…" He choked up when he tried to say her name. Days had passed and the pain hadn't relented.

"I never expected to lose her." Stacy admitted. "I always thought House would be the first one of us to leave this world. I was always prepared to lose him and to lean on her when he was gone."

"Me too." Wilson said. "She was the pillar of strength and I think in some way we all leaned on her. "

Stacy nodded. "Come on, let's go see House."

They headed back into the elevator, Stacy feeling the weight on her shoulders. She knew that in her purse held the one thing that House never wanted to see. Cuddy's will. The one document that would scream her death and make him face his loss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine and Grissom were hunched over a microscope. A fiber between them like the thread of friendship they still had.

"Why did you leave?" he asked suddenly.

"You didn't need me anymore." She replied briskly. "I like to be needed."

"I needed you." He said.

It took all the strength she had to keep from looking at him and getting lost in his blue eyes. Instead, she turned her attention completely toward the fiber that was before her.

It was a dark navy blue and the material was something she was not completely familiar with. It felt strange to the touch and when she looked at the closer, it was not the usual cotton or polyester. With a touch of precision she snipped off half of the tiny fiber and lit the Bunsen burner by her side.

Grissom took a pair of tweezers and held the other end and together they performed a flame test on the material. To their surprise, it exploded. Grissom pulled Catherine away from the table, wrapping her in his arms, shielding her with his body.

For a moment, they lay on the ground like that. Before she realized where she was and shook him off, regaining her composure, glad that the explosion was on a relatively small scale.

"Flame resistant" Catherine stated in bewilderment. The fiber didn't even have a scorch mark even though the table was now barely standing.

"That narrows down your list of suspects." Grissom said, eyeing her closely.

She was doing the same with him, checking his body under lowered lashes for any sign of injury.

"I'm gonna get this material tested and figure out exactly what it is." She said, slipping the precious piece of evidence back into the evidence bag and starting down the hall.

He watched her retreating back for a moment and sighed deeply. Memories of their formerly strong friendship was enough to force him to his knees. What had happened between them? Which one of them had changed?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Stacy saw him through the tinted glass windows. He was staring at the computer screen, only the screen was solid black. Usually she knew he would be playing games or researching some new unusual medical condition, but now the screen was silent just like he was.

"Greg." She started.

He spun to cast two dark shadows upon her. She stepped back in surprise. This was not the Greg House she had left behind. This was not the Greg House that Lisa Cuddy had once loved and cherished more than anything else in the world. It was as if that Greg House had followed Cuddy to the grave.

"She loved you." Stacy said softly.

Wilson casted an eye on her and she realized that Cuddy had been the object of affections for both men. She bit her tongue and cursed herself for not realizing it sooner.

Wilson abruptly backtracked out of the office and down the hall. She sighed.

"House, she loved you."

He looked at the floor and squeezed the foam ball he kept on his desk for helping him come up with brilliant medical theories.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"She told me. She loved you and she would have never wanted you to feel pain because of her." Stacy consoled.

He didn't answer. And for a long moment there was silence, as if the world was holding its breath as he weighted her words against the painful turmoil welling up deep within him.

Then he threw the ball against the window of his office, connecting to the break room. The throw was so hard that the window shattered and the broken glass fell to the floor with soft chinkling noises.

Stacy stared at him with shock horror. He didn't move, just watched the shattered glass for a moment.

"Go plan her funeral." He said, his voice so cold, she felt as if an icy winter breeze had come and lay claim to her heart.

Looking at him, she knew that her worst fears were confirmed. Greg House was no longer with them. He had followed Cuddy to the grave and all that remained was a physical shell of what he used to be. Stacy picked up a piece of the broken glass and watched his form disappear. He wasn't going to be with them for much longer. That was something she could almost guarantee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He was almost out of the door of the hospital when his leg gave up beneath him. He crumpled to the floor and sat there for a moment, rubbing the old scar on his leg, cursing under his breath. The cold must have been getting to him, but he never recalled feeling such searing pain before.

He limped to his feet groaning as pain washed over him. He stumbled toward his car and then leaned his head against the cold glass. His leg throbbing, he slowly unlocked the door and slid in, rubbing his leg, trying to ease the pain. He popped two pills, and waited for them to take affect. They did, but there was still a small ache and even House didn't know why.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

I don't know if that answered a lot of questions, but I wanted to put in a bit about how House's physical pain is also linked to his emotional pain. So if he hurts emotionally his leg will get worse. 


	7. Lost and Found in a Flash

Chapter Seven

Found and Lost in a Flash

Thanks to all who reviwed! You guys are wonderful!

Disclaimer: I don't own House or any of the characters. Or CSI. I just wish I did. No profit made.

---------------

The CSI's were getting dangerously close to cracking the case. The fiber had come back to be flame resistant material, the kind specially used in car racing. Tritter knew it would eventually be linked back to the only person he ever cared about and then to him.

That could not happen. He had to get rid of the damning evidence. However, he forced himself to relax. The CSIs knew that House hated him and that Tritter had been careless with a case. Easy. He could blame it on his schedule. Cases were piling up. They had no discovered he and House's bitter relationship that could possibly provide motive. And they had yet to discover the vital link that would condemn Cuddy's killer. For the time being, he was safe.

-------------

Melinda pulled of her latex gloves and rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. She had just finished the full autopsy. Her findings were a bit too horrendous for her, even though she had spent almost ten years on the job. Nothing surprised her anymore. This case, however, just struck a chord with her. She paged Catherine.

---------------

House was sitting in Cuddy's office when the new Dean of Medicine arrived. She was much older than Cuddy had been with a severe look in her eyes and her hair pinned up in a tight bun that pulled at the corners of her face.

She backtracked and checked the name tag on the door. It still said, "Lisa Cuddy."

"You have the wrong room." House said from his place behind the desk.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cuddy." She replied sarcastically. "I always predicted you to be more feminine…and a little more dead."

She strode in and pointedly motioned for him to leave. He didn't budge.

"Move or I'm calling security." She said, her tone contained no trace of a joke or sarcasm.

He didn't say anything. Just sat there for a while longer, glaring at her, anger and pain apparent on his face, though he tried his best to hide it.

Security showed up and House dragged himself to his feet. Both of the men were buff and surly, but to House's surprise they were not at all rough with him. It was then apparent to House what kind of influence Cuddy had had at PPTH. She managed to reach up to even the people that he would have never expected to even speak to and make them her friend. In her life, she had spun out a web of loyalty and her employees had gladly returned it. Now in her death, she had given him the ultimate protection. The fact that he had obviously been her favorite because she let him get way things that no one else good only because he was brilliant and she knew where he would draw the line. Instead of drawing anger from his colleagues, her actions had created understanding and a sense of commitment to what she had always protected. Her death was a call of duty. Protect her baby. Protect him.

"McDummy here wants Cuddy's place." House muttered. Wilson had entered behind the security guards.

He fell alongside House. "I know, we can't stop her."

House glanced at him. The pain in his heart was as strong as ever, though he was finally able to force it down. Or perhaps it was the double dose of Vicodin that made him numb, but he kept his temper in check. Kept himself from turning around and beating the new Dean with his cane. He didn't even know her name yet. Didn't want to. Didn't need to. Didn't think she even deserved to have one.

"We can make her life a living hell though." He muttered, his voice barely audible. Wilson heard, however, and sighed. He wanted to hate House to being the one to steal Cuddy.

Wilson had been nothing but sweet, kind and caring to her. He had done everything by the book and right. Yet by some unknown twist of fate. Some unknown reason, she had fallen hard for House, who was every bit the opposite of him. A few months back, Wilson had tried to be like House. Had tried to be sarcastic and almost cruel to Cuddy. All that resulted in was a screaming match with Cuddy doing most of the yelling. It angered her when he was like that, but when House challenged her to a match of verbal wordplay, she agreed and enjoyed it. It was a connection he never understood, never would be able to recreate.

He wanted to shove the cripple beside him, but he was not that kind of person. Through it all, he was still House's best friend and in some ways, they were now connected in ways that were otherwise unforeseen. Both of them loved and lost. Both of their pain were caused by the same person.

------------

"You paged me?" Catherine asked, slipping into the morgue and pulling on latex gloves with Grissom right behind her.

Melinda quirked an eyebrow at the entomologist.

"Former boss." She explained. "I called him in for help."

Melinda nodded in slight amusement at the way Grissom shuffled.

"I just got the autopsy results. Tests show that she had no alcohol, or drugs or anything in her system."

"Fits with the victim." Catherine noted.

"One of her ribs were broken, consistent with a violent struggle. Probably from being kicked. She also had sex before she died. The DNA is being run right now." Melinda continued.

"Dr. House, a colleague of hers confessed to an affair." Catherine said.

Then Melinda handed her a small piece of clear paper that contained one print.

"The killer choked her so hard, he left a partial thumb print. There were also skin epithelials which I sent to the lab already."

"Thanks. You're a real sweetheart." Catherine said gratefully.

Grissom was examining Cuddy's hair. Something Melinda had missed through no fault of her own. He picked up Catherine's camera, ignoring her curious stare. A flash.

"Whoa…" Catherine murmured.

For a split second, something in Cuddy's hair sparkled and glowed in the dim morgue lights.

-----------------------

Stacy was planning Cuddy's funeral. A call to the morgue told her that a new lead prevented Cuddy's body to be released. She wasn't in a hurry. She didn't want to see her. Not sure if she could handle it.

Wilson entered his office, looking weary.

"I don't want to plan this funeral. It's like stating for a fact that Lisa's gone." Stacy verbalized. "I also have no idea where to start. I never thought I would be planning something like this."

Gentle hand on her shoulder. He sat down across from her meeting her eyes.

"Stacy, I deal with death everyday. I tell patients they're dying every day. They tell me what they want in their remembrance."

She wanted for the relevancy.

"Lisa and I were treating a child with cancer once. She completely opened up to Lisa, and described the funeral she wanted. Lisa cried. Later that night I saw her in her office. She was drunk."

Stacy raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Lisa to drink like that in the hospital, but then again, after a conversation like that maybe she needed it.

"We talked about what she wanted. Of course she never mentioned it again, but there are details that I still remember."

"What did she want?" Stacy asked.

"A Jewish funeral. She was Jewish after all and she said the tradition is simple and that's all she wants."

Stacy nodded. "Then she gets everything she wanted."

"We should tell House."

Stacy hesitated. "I'm worried about him."

Wilson looked thoughtful. "Me too."

Worry lines eased into both their faces, silently confirming what the other one thought. House was depressed. Some instinct and knot in their stomach told them that he may follow his dark haired angel.

-------

Author's Note: Sorry for the very slow updates. I am so incredibly busy that I'm struggling to do everything. So many apologies. Enjoy this for now. I'll update as soon as possible.


	8. Rewind, Replay, Pause

Rewind, Replay, Pause

Disclaimer: I do not own House or CSI or any of the characters. I simply like to mess with their lives or in this case lack of one.

Note: Thanks so much to all who reviewed!

------------

Catherine had collected the sparkling samples from Cuddy's hair and sent them to trace. She was now with Grissom in the New Jersey fingerprint lab, scanning the print that had been left on Cuddy's skin. Grissom shifted his weight on his chair. She was amused that he hadn't yet said anything about having no lab tech to do the work for them. The Las Vegas Crime Lab was twice the size of the New Jersey one. Catherine had had to adjust to the lack of staff and high tech equipment when she moved. Grissom didn't seem to mind, however. It brought a half smile to her face.

The computer rang her attention just as she stretched out of her chair. Grissom moved to lean over her shoulder as they both focused on the screen.

A gape. An exchange of stares. One surprised, one unreadable.

---------

House limped into the blue cold illuminated morgue, an invited guest seeking a ghost. Fifty bucks later he was in the autopsy room. It was empty. Well empty of life.

In the dead center of the room, lay the one he was searching for.

She was naked except for a stark white sheet covering her. Her eyes closed and face pale. She looked at peace and subdued. Her palmers lay by her sides and so he did not see her scars. The bruises on her neck the only evidence of her horrific demise.

He limped toward her. It wasn't like him to care. It wasn't like him to betray his cover and be human. However, she brought it out of him. She had made him vulnerable both in life and in death and he found that perhaps with her it was okay to be human.

He touched her hair, watching her face. Her mouth constantly animating whatever emotion he drove her to, fell in its natural position. He noticed it to be a half smile.

_He rolled over to his side and came face to face with the back of her head. He smiled to himself as he buried his face into her hair, drawing in the scent of magnolias and his Irish spring soap. He propped himself on one arm and looked down upon her. Her eyes were closed__, cheek cupped in one hand. The other on her chest that was rising and falling gently. She looked serene, calm, and hid the fact that she was a tiger. However even in sleep, there was a sense of strength radiating from her. He laid back down and put his face in her hair. _

_She let out a half purr as she rolled over as well so that they were face to face. __She opened on eye and peered at him, a smile playing on her sleepy face. He kissed her on the nose and she laughed. _

_The phone broke what would have been a flirtation. She flopped over him, splaying herself across his bare chest as she reached for it. _

_"Hello?" _

_His stubble tickled her neck. Lisa pushed him away as she rolled over to her other side, trying to keep her conversation. _

_"__No Mom, I'm alone. Yeah stayed up late studying last night."_

_He was running his fingers down her back, a wicked smile on his face. She wiggled away. He followed, wrapping an arm around her waist so that her back was against his chest. _

_"Yes Mom, I'll be home for Christmas." She continued, spinning to glare at him. Big mistake. _

_He moved closer, kissing her neck and tangling his fingers in her hair. Her mother started a monologue and he took the chance to trap her mouth and explore. _

_"Mmmm…Ok yeah Mom, I'll see you soon. Bye." _

_Glare in her blue eyes. He grinned back at her. __She had to go soon, obvious she was planning her escape to the bathroom. Take the covers with her. Run for it buck naked. _

_She moved so that she hovered above him. "You are in so much trouble, but I do have to get to class. I need to shower." _

_He put his hands on her waist. "Yeah so do I. Faster to kill two birds with one stone." _

_"Hmmm yeah…" She started smile playing at her lips. _

_They both bolted for the bathroom._

"Excuse me." A voice came from behind him.

He ignored it. Their first night together. They had used to be so innocent, so simple. She was a wild, responsible, and love all wrapped up into one package. He used to be carefree, sarcastic, and the man she always wanted. Then the world had happened. His restlessness had overcome him and knowing him she had let him go. His life fell apart. He met Stacy. He and Cuddy got reintroduced. She found him, beaten yet not broken and pulled him up again. Gave him a job. She saved his ass. He saved her. Over and over again. The cycle didn't end. They both loved it and hated it. It never stopped. Until now.

Melinda was not facing him, pulling the white sheet up and over Cuddy's face. Finally House looked up.

---------

"Walter John Tritter." Catherine said outloud. Grissom looked at her. "Related to his the cop?"

She nodded, scrolling down. "His brother."

"Explains why he didn't investigate the doctor's case properly and tried to put it off as a suicide." Grissom noted.

A young lab tech that seemed to be the mirror image of Greg poked his head into the lab. Catherine felt sent a smile his way. He wanted to get into the field and she had been teaching him.

"Cath, I got your sparkle from the vic's hair."

She whirled her chair around to face him. "Spill Pete."

"Reflective paint." He said. "Used in racecars and all sorts of vehicles."

She leaned back toward the computer. "Profession- Mechanic."

"The flameproof suit isn't explained though." Grissom pointed out. "He's a mechanic not a fireman."

Pete had danced around Catherine to see the screen. "Hey I know that guy."

Grissom's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"He's an amateur racecar driver." Pete informed them. "He mostly does small tracks and stuff, but nothing else. They say he's got a low IQ."

"I'll call the cops."

"Not Tritter, I hope." Grissom said.

Catherine whirled to see if he was serious. He wasn't. There was a familiar twinkle in his eye as he smiled at her. Despite the circumstances, she found herself smiling back. For a moment, they were as they were so long ago. It was good ground and she hesitated to leave. She didn't want to break the moment. Break the friendship they had left to neglect and to rot.

"Go for it Catherine." He said.

She flashed him a dazzling smile. Then she was gone.

------

Wilson heard the ambulance head out. He had been walking Stacy to her car when it had rushed past them. They hadn't thought about it.

"Stacy, are you planning Lisa's funeral?"

"Yes." She replied, hugging her jacket closer to her. "Her family understands me wanting to help my best friend."

"Then you're heading back to Mark?" Wilson asked, opening the car door for her.

She paused. "Yes. I plan to, after the funeral."

He nodded. "You'll be missed."

"Ditto that." She replied.

The sound of sirens drifted off into the distance.

-------

"Can I help you?" Melinda asked.

"I just had to see her." House said simply. No specifics.

Melinda understood. She often caught people on the worse days of their lives and each had different ways of dealing with it.

"I'm releasing her to her family today." Melinda informed him.

He nodded. Then he felt it. The jolt of pain that would randomly shoot through his leg became a long drawn out pull, all flame and nothing else. He let out a yell as he dropped his cane and grabbed for his leg. Melinda rushed to him, yelling for help.

He gritted his teeth. It felt like he was dying. At least he hoped he was.

--------

Author's Note:

I'm very sorry for my slow updates. Really trying to catch up with all the stuff that's backing me up. I'm very sorry and am so glad everyone's been reading. Thanks so much everyone!


	9. Coming Together

Chapter Nine

Coming Together

Disclaimer: I do not own House. All rights belong to FOX and their respective owners. No profit made.

Thanks to everyone that reviewed! It was greatly appreciated.

-----------------

Catherine and Grissom had all of their evidence spread out before her. Things that had originally seemed unimportant now all fit. The police chief stood across the lab table with a displeased expression on his face. Charging a cop with accomplice to murder was never a good idea and these two CSIs, one not even working for the state, were determined to do so.

"This evidence better be solid or else Catherine, you will be on permanent leave." He said testily.

She didn't care. In the moments of investigating this case, she had come to terms with her discontent and her reasons for leaving Las Vegas. She realized that she had run away to make herself happy, allow Lindsey a life away from the glitzy glamour hiding cruel city streets of a town where secrets could kill while she, herself, avoided the relationship between her mentor and his student. It hadn't been a good reason as he had shown her throughout this case. They still worked like the golden pair and he had made it obvious that he still cared for her. No relationship was fine with her, she just wanted the support back. As for the glitzy glamour that had driven her to move her daughter to the quieter streets of New Jersey, she realized that each town possessed its own secrets. And each town had its dangers and that the adjustment to New Jersey had done more harm than good.

"Catherine, maybe we should let him know what we know." Grissom said, waking her from her reverie.

"Right." She said; tone completely emotionless, professional, all business, objective.

"Sequence." She began. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy comes home around seven o'clock pm. Around eleven o'clock that night Dr. Gregory House came in to beg for painkillers and they two ended up in her bedroom. An hour later, around midnight, Dr. House gets a call from the hospital and he leaves. Dr. Cuddy then pours herself a glass of wine and settles in front of her fireplace." She moved forward a photo of the fireplace and evidence sample of the ashes. Not long afterward, she receives knock on her door by Walter John Tritter."

Grissom jumped in. "The two may have quarreled and he assaulted her, knocking her over and pulling her into the bedroom. The fight proceeded for quite some time and then he choked and killed her. A print was found on the surface of the victim's skin. Afterward, Mr. Tritter calls his brother to help him clean up the mess."

"The phone records show that Walter called Detective Tritter a few moments after one o'clock."

She produced a print. "This print was taken from the victim's bedroom and matches Detective Tritter's prints."

He slide it across the table back to her. "He was there, investigating the case, could have been accidentally transmitted there."

"Not this one." Grissom replied. "This one was found on the ceiling directly above the victim's bed."

The chief looked startled. "Why did you think to look there?"

Catherine was the one to answer. "We were recreating the crime scene when I tried to pull the dummy onto the bed where the body was found. The bed's bouncy. I stumbled and my hand grazed the ceiling. The person who placed the body on the bed may also have done that. And we got lucky. He must have remembered to put on gloves after dragging the body onto the bed."

"And you think the person is Detective Tritter."

An exchange of glances between the two CSIs. "Positively sure."

"How do you it was Tritter's brother?" He asked.

Catherine placed her delicate fingers onto three small bags sealed with red tape and shifted them forward toward the Chief.

"The fiber is flame resistant. Consistent with the type used in car racing fireproof suits. Walter Tritter is a amateur car racer." Catherine stated.

"The second is flecks of paint. Reflective. Often used in cars. Walter Tritter's profession is as a car mechanic." Grissom added.

"And the fingerprints tie it all together." Catherine finished.

Grissom felt there was something else to add. "Dr. Cuddy got a good piece of her attacker. The scrapings from her fingernails could provide a solid DNA match to Walter Tritter."

The Chief looked unconvinced for a moment and then agreed with a sigh. "Go make your arrests or else the DA will kill me for protecting a cop."

Catherine slipped out with Grissom following close at her heels. Her pace was so fast, he had to jog a little to catch up. She wanted this guy. She wanted to take him out now. There was a dangerous glint to her blue eyes, a glint that he knew all too well when she was running down the homestretch of a case that really hit home for her. He sped up his pace as she made her way into the cop section of the building. She took a sharp left through the rows of police desks and made her way into the office of the DA.

--------------------------

House awoke to two worried faces staring down at him. Wilson and Stacy, mirror images of each other. He felt dazed and numb as if someone or something had hit him with enough painkillers to take down a rhino. It felt good.

"What happened?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged, though it was barely visibly. "Leg hurt."

"So you passed out?" Stacy asked.

"Leg really hurt." He deadpanned.

Wilson sighed. "We should do a PET scan to see if the pain's gotten worse."

"Or we could leave it alone and just assume that it hurts because I'm missing a huge muscle thing that should be there." House snorted.

"House, you could be coming down with something."

"Right." He said, not really listening.

Stacy pressed further. "Greg, we're your friends, we care."

He flicked a glance at her and muttered. "Friendship is like peeing on someone. No one sees it but you get the warm feeling inside." The last part very sarcastic.

Stacy gave up.

Wilson hesitated and then asked. "If you thought something was wrong, you would tell us right?"

House paused for a moment too long, a fraction of a second, but it passed without either of them noticing. "Yeah."

That second would have given him away had Cuddy been the one to listen. Had he had created the same lie to her, she would have called him on it even before he had a chance to open his mouth and lie. However, Wilson and Stacy accepted it and walked out. Everybody lies. Even House. Especially House.

-------------------

The coroner had finally released Lisa's body and now it lay in an unclosed coffin in an open green field. The sky was grey but its clouds kept their hold on its tears as they shifted uncomfortably, driven by the force of the winds. Thus below these natural occurrences, stood an unnatural mass of black.

Catherine and Grissom stood in the far back, not wanting to intrude on the mourning of Lisa Cuddy's friends and family.

The rabbi was speaking, heads were bowed as each in turn recalled memories of the woman that now laid so cold in that polished wood box. Stacy was the first to say something. She smoothed her hands over her black dress and wringed them, trying to contain her grief.

"Lisa, was a giver." She started, holding back a sob. Her knuckles were white as she clutched to the podium. "She gave me a job when I needed to be close to the hospital for my husband. When I was going through hell with my relationship with him, she was the one who held my hand during late night talks and told me lame jokes to keep me going."

She stopped there. Trying to regain her control. She couldn't.

"The world lost a good friend." She finished and moved away fast.

Wilson spoke as well, commenting on her dedication, her energy, her caring nature, ending with the world lost a great doctor. He was a oncologist, delivering bad news was his gift, but here, dressed in a suit, he found himself unable to try and make it sound like it would be okay, because it wouldn't and he knew it.

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase stood near House, but not too close. They were unsure of their place. Cuddy had been their boss's boss and yet here they were, trying to accept the shock that things at the hospital would never be the same. Cameron snuck a glance at House. House would never be the same. That she knew. Perhaps she knew all along that he had feelings for the older doctor. Cameron had always admired her. She saw that Chase thought Cuddy was pretty and knew that they both respected her. However House was different. She knew his feelings for Cuddy ran deeper than just employer and employee, there was something there that she could not quite pinpoint, until now.

Now it was obvious. House loved her. And Cameron wished he knew that that love had been returned.

The person of Cameron's thoughts was dressed in a dark jeans and a black blazer with a rock tee shirt with white emblazed letters stating PINK FLOYD. He had fought tooth and nail with nurses and Wilson until finally under the threat of bodily harm to Wilson, he had been allowed to attend. At the sight of his clothes though, Wilson had begun to second guess the decision. He could practically hear members at the funeral buzzing about he lacked the respect for Cuddy to even dress nicely at her funeral, defying her authority to the end. It wasn't about that though.

It was his way of symbolizing her existence. As long as he had been rebellious he could always count on her presence in his office virtually every single day. It was an excuse to constantly have her around. He limped up to her now. He wouldn't speak at her funeral. He didn't need to. No one needed to know what she was to him. He knew. That was enough. He limped toward the coffin.

Her eyes were closed and had small delicate hands were placed on her chest. She looked peaceful with her blue eyes closed as if she were sleeping, although the ugly bruises on her neck contradicted the expression on her face. Her hair fell around her and he touched it, wrapping his fingers around the soft dark brown curls. He trailed his fingers down her cold apple white skin now too pale with the settling of her blood.

He took something from his pocket and placed it beside her.

_His fingers trailed lightly over the __polished wood of his guitar__. It was quiet and Lisa was already asleep. He could not resist the urge to play though as in his sleep he found an aspiration and notes and melodies took him away on a journey where he could discover something deeper than the world around him. _

_The melodies tangled around him and his mind drifted to the woman w__ho lay sleeping in the next room and how on that night he had been consumed by the moment and the feelings exploding in his chest and asked her to take the next step with him, going down on one knee_

It's been a long time since we walked that aisle together and you became my wife.

_Okay that was jumping the gun a little bit, but it fit with the melody and thus Gregory House decided that perhaps it was okay to get ahead of himself for once in his life. _

Who would've thought you would fall for someone just like me

For the best days of my life.

I may not be a poet

Cause I'm not so good with words

I may not stand before you like a knight in shining armor

I may not be the best of singers

There's better guys I've heard

But I know how to love you well.

_He paused, scribbling down the lyrics in his messy handwriting. He didn't notice a figure leaning against the doorframe watching him with blue eyes. _

You got your faults

And I don't need to tell you I've got mine.

_She smiled at this line. It was true. They were both so far from perfect and yet each imperfection was enough to keep them amusing to the other. As if reading her thoughts, he continued. _

I guess they all even out.

Wherever I run, the thought of you turns water into wine

And somehow I lose a crowd

I may not drive a fancy car

I don't know what it's for

I may not be the one who gets to shower you in diamonds

I may not be a rich man

But you can't call me poor

Cause I know how to love you well

As we skip the light fandango

From that old jukebox by the bar

Now honey don't it make you wonder

How we ever got this far.

_Her hands traveled to her chest and her lips pursed together as she felt a small smile push its way onto her face. It had amazed how long they had lasted. How far they had come. No one had anticipated study- hard- good- girl Lisa would fall for out-of-control-Lacrosse-star Gregory House_I may not be a poet

Cause I don't have much to say

I may not stand before you

Like that knight in shining armor

I may not be the best of singers

Honey that's okay

I know how to love you well. _She walked toward him, bare feet on the wooden floor barely making a sound and placed a hand on his shoulder. His hand left the strings and found its way onto her hers. She sat herself beside him on the piano bench and leaned her head onto his back. They stayed that way until sleep brought them back into each other's arms in the comfort of their bed. _

He had never thought they would never make it to the altar. That before he had a chance to see her dressed in white, his restlessness would consume him and she would see it and set him free. He didn't anticipate it and wished he had.

The clouds finally gave in. And God's tears fell into the still open coffin. Others sought shelter. House didn't. He stood there, watching the rain smear the words on that crinkled sheet of paper as the blue of the pen that wrote down lyrics from his heart and the black of the hand drawn notes from his musical genius blur as the coffin was covered.

He stood there for quite some time before the pain in his leg demanded that he go inside.

---------

After the funeral Catherine and Grissom quickly slid into their car and back to the police station. Catherine had gotten the arrest warrant for both the Tritters from the DA, Alexandra Cabot. She was now in a hurry to make the arrests with an alternative detective on the force.

She was driving, Grissom didn't mind. From the corner of his eye thought he had to say she looked nice in the slim fit black shirt with black slacks and her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail.

"Stop staring." She said without taking her eyes off the road.

He smiled. She knew him and didn't hesitate to call him out whenever she wanted.

"Sorry." He said apologetically.

She turned from the road. Studied him and turned back.

He wasn't sure what she was looking for or what she saw.

The rest of the drive was silent as she gunned the vehicle down the slippery streets as the rain came down harder.

-------------------

Detective Olivia Benson met Catherine at the entrance.

"Hey." Catherine greeted. Quick introductions between her and Grissom were made.

"I thought you'd like to be there for the arrests." Olivia said.

Catherine nodded and checked that her weapon was at her hip. Grissom did not. He didn't like his weapon and hated to use it and rarely carried it. Now was not different.

--------

Gregory House hated to answer his phone. It was always either his team needing help with something or Wilson checking up on him. At the moment now he hated it even more. Wilson's calls came hourly ever since he checked himself out of the hospital and left. And no call came from Catherine about Cuddy's case. None until now.

It rang and he answered it reluctantly.

"Dr. House?" Catherine's voice traveled into his ear.

"What?" He asked, gruffly.

"We got them." Was all she said. All she needed to say.

Ten seconds later, he was limping out of the room, wanting a confrontation.

------------------------

Author's Note: Sorry about slow updates guys. I will try to do better. As for my other stories I'm going to finish them all one at a time. It's easier that way so I don't get confused over which one's which.


	10. Confessions

Confessions

Disclaimer: House characters are not mine. I wish they were but they aren't so don't sue me.

--

House didn't expect Catherine to greet him, but she was there.

"It was Tritter." House said. It was a statement, not a question.

"It was _the _Tritter_s_," Catherine replied. "His brother did the actual killing but _Detective_ Tritter cleaned up the mess."

House winced at the word 'mess' recalling the torn up state that Cuddy's apartment had been in.

"You ready Cath?" Grissom asked as he rounded the corner, then stopped, catching sight of her with House.

Catherine nodded and started toward the interview room.

House reached out a hand and grabbed her elbow. She whirled to find herself face to face with blue eyes that looked at her with such an intensity that she felt her feet take a step back without her consent. There was a raw and primal look in his eyes as if he was possessed by a savage beast that craved blood.

"Five minutes." He begged. "Give me five minutes with the bastard."

Grissom stepped in between them. "Excuse me sir, but we need a confession. This is a confidential matter."

House would not back down. His stubbornness lay next to his bones, permanent, never wavering. "I need to know why."

"I'm sorry sir, but it's too risky. He may look at you, know your connection to the victim and refuse to talk." Grissom said.

The muscle in House's jaw twitched.

Catherine stepped up as mediator. "Why don't I try first? If he won't talk, we'll give Dr. House a chance."

Grissom hesitated. He looked at Catherine and they exchanged a look. A look that replaced words. A gesture that only the best of friends knew how to interpret. A nod.

"We'll watch." Grissom said. He started toward the observation room and held the door open, making it clear for House to go in.

Catherine pushed the door open and came face to face once again the killer of Lisa Cuddy.

--



Walter Tritter looked nothing like his brother. While Detective Tritter's hair was already a full patch of grey, Walter's was still thick and brown. Catherine noted his twitching leg as she took a seat across from him and Olivia sat down beside her.

"Alright Mr. Tritter, we know what happened. We've got fingerprints, fibers, and a flawless timeline." Catherine said. "So tell me how'd a simple man like you end up in a doctor's mansion?"

He shifted and regarded Catherine coolly. Catherine's gaze never wavered.

"I knew her okay?" He said, his words like rapid fire. "I knew her and she knew me, but she never saw me. I showed her. I showed her I'm not invisible."

Catherine's head jerked up. "You knew her? How?"

"School." He said. "College. I was a student when she was there. So beautiful. So untouchable. I wanted her. She never saw me. Everyone else did, but her."

"What do you mean by she never saw you?" Catherine pressed on. "Why'd you kill her?"

"I didn't kill her. She just ignored me. Always had her nose in a book as if words on a page were more important than me. I thought it was because she was just hard working until she met a guy. Then she was either in the books or with him. Like I said she ignored me."

"We have evidence, solid evidence that you killed her." Catherine said. "You can't argue with forensic evidence."

"You don't have nothing." He slurred at her. "I want my lawyer now."

Catherine sat back resigned.

"I'll make the call." Olivia said, rising to her feet.

Walter glared stubbornly at the strawberry blonde before him. "Lisa deserved what she got. She was rude. Snobby. Thought herself above everyone else because she was so smart. She stole my scholarship you know. Not only did she humiliate me all through school, but she stole my life."

Catherine regarded him with steel eyes. "Did you ever see her again after college?" She asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He leaned forward and tilted his head to one side. "Oh yes many times." He said.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

The smirk came alive. "I want my lawyer now."

--



Beside Grissom, House was seething. As soon as he laid eyes on Walter, he felt red hot anger begin in his toes and travel up his already burning legs.

"I know him." He hissed.

Grissom's head snapped toward him.

"The fucking bastard was in Lisa's Bio class." House said quietly. "I remember seeing him."

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks, pulling his stomach down to his feet.

_He slung an arm over her shoulders as she exited her class, snapping her hands out of soggy latex gloves. _

"_You smell." He told her. _

"_Funny." She retorted. "The pig on my table reminded me so much of you." _

"_You know that pig anatomy is very similar to human anatomy right." _

_She quirked an eyebrow and gave him a sly grin. "In some cases identical." _

"_Oh, you clever, you." He said with a chuckle. "You're talking about me aren't you?" _

"_Egomaniacal and a cynic." She teased. _

_Someone bumped into them. Books flew everywhere. _

"_Oh I'm so sorry." Lisa said, bending over and picking up the guy's books. "I wasn't watching." _

_The guy looked up and stared at her. He eyed her up and down with a smirk on his face. Greg growled deep in his throat. _

_Lisa, however, noticed nothing as she plopped the books onto the pile in his arms, and then turned back to Greg. _

"_Greg, you better get going or you'll be late for your game." She was telling him. He nodded, gripping her closer to him and leading her away. One backward glance told him that the guy was still staring. _

"You mean he liked her?" Grissom asked.

"Stalked her was more like it. I saw him lingering around a bunch of times afterward. I mentioned it once, but she said it wasn't a huge school and it was probably just coincidence. Knowing Lisa and her oh so I want to see the good in people, I should have insisted her to get some sort of protection, but I wasn't as stubborn as I am now." House said bitterly. "Then she and I broke up and I left and she graduated. I never gave him a second thought."

Grissom had turned back to the mirror. "So our love interest has escalated. What triggered him?"

House's face was contorted into frown. "And how long has he been watching her?"

--



Author's Note: Sorry for the super slow update and then short post. My work has been killing me. Barely have time to sleep. Once again took on too much stuff at one time thinking I could manage it all. Maybe trying to be superwoman like Cuddy is starting to get to me. Hehehe. Just kidding. House jumps into the interview next chapter. This one was for a bit of background between Cuddy and the killer. Hope you liked it. Sorry if I don't reply to your review. I really appreciate them though.


	11. Of Catcalls and Closecalls

Of Catcalls and Closecalls

Disclaimer: I do not own House or CSI, or L&O:SVU. I just couldn't help using some of their characters.

THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEWED! YOU GUYS REALLY KEPT ME GOING THROUGH ALL THE WRITER'S BLOCK!

--

Catherine hurried from the interview room, asking Olivia to hold the call to his lawyer for a few more minutes. She had the nagging urge that she had missed something, something important. She made her way into the layout room and started ripping open bags. She found what she had been looking for in the third bag marked scrapbooks. She started flipping frantically through the pages. On page five, she found what she had been looking for.

--

She rushed into the viewing room and held the photograph up to Grissom and House. House felt his blood run cold at the sight of it. It was of her and him laughing at a small diner the day after he had been set free from jail. Memory surged.

"_Come on House, on your feet." She said softly, sliding an arm underneath his shoulders. Someone catcalled from the cell across and House felt his jaw clench at the sound of such disrespect toward the woman beside him. _

_He lurched to his feet and slid his arm over her shoulders, catching a quick whiff of her perfume. Together they limped out of the small cell that reeked of urine to the security desk where she got him back his cane. She had taken him out to breakfast and they had caught up in each other's lives over runny eggs and bitter coffee. He had felt a familiar feeling travel back into the center of his chest. Something that made him look at her more intently, listen to her more closely, craving small moments when their hands grazed each other by accident. _

_His whole demeanor toward her had changed from that moment on. He had newfound respect for what she had risked to save him. Surprise and glee that she had stepped so far over the line of safe behavior for him. That she cared enough to risk her own freedom for his. That was the first time that he had held the door open for her since their days at Michigan. _

"This is the trigger." Catherine said, pointing at a male figure in the next booth to them. "This is what set him off."

"Makes sense." Grissom said. "Tritter must have vented about Dr. Cuddy's involvement in his revenge case and I'm guessing that that's when Walter found her again and started to tail her."

House's fist clenched over his cane. "I want to talk to him." He hissed.

Catherine tried to put a calming hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. "I want five minutes with him. I just need to know why and he needs to know what he's done."



Grissom was about to object when Catherine interrupted. "Walter's angry that Cuddy started seeing House. Maybe House will trigger an outburst."

"He has to waive his right to an attorney first before it's admissible." Grissom mentioned.

Catherine pursed her lips in a thoughtful expression. "Dr. House, if you promise to do exactly what I say for the first two minutes of going in that room, I think I can make it happen."

--

Catherine timidly opened the door and allowed House entry into the room as soon as he stepped into the light. Walter jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair.

"You!" He spat.

House opened his mouth to retort, but Catherine jabbed him gently in the ribs with her elbow.

"Mr. Tritter, I'm sorry but I can't let you talk to Dr. House. You asked for an attorney and thus you cannot say anything else unless you waive your right to one." She said.

Turning to House, she added. "I'm sorry. Dr. House, I brought us to the wrong interview room, but you have valuable information concerning Dr. Cuddy and I would really like to interview you so please have a bit of patience with me."

"Really valuable information?" Walter yelled. "The asshole was shit to her! He—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tritter, unless you waive your right to an attorney, I cannot let you speak." Catherine insisted, cutting him off.

House saw Walter's face turn three shades darker of red.

"Then I waive my right to an attorney. I want to make this absolutely clear to this asshole what Lisa was." Walter said, fuming.

To Catherine's trained eye, she saw that House was on the verge of losing control of his own temper. The muscle in his jaw was twitching violently and his hands were clenched so tightly that the blue veins of his worn hands were popping out. She showed him to a chair and took a seat beside him.

"Dr. House, we meet in person at last." Walter said, regaining his calm composure as House was losing his.

"Yeah, too bad there's a table and a cane between me and your face." House said. "Why'd you do it?"

"I really have no inkling what you're talking about." Walter responded without missing a beat.

"You stalked her. You followed her even after she rejected you. You never interested her, you never understood her and you just couldn't deal with that could you? So what, since you couldn't have her, no 

one else could?" House said, his voice quiet. The softness actually frightened Catherine more than if he had yelled.

Walter's eyes turned hard. "Do you know that she cried for weeks after you left?" He said.

House froze at this new line of attack.

"Did you know that after you left her, she stopped going out to parties and instead spent nights alone in her apartment?" He asked.

House slammed his cane down onto the metal table, surprising a jump from Catherine and Walter. He leaned his face closer to the other man's.

"What'd you do to her Walter?" House asked quietly. "Did you beg her to love you? Did she say no and being unable to handle that rejection you killed her? Did she stare at you, accusing you as she died?"

"NO!" Walter roared. He was livid with rage as he thought of the last moments Lisa Cuddy had spent on earth. "She wouldn't look at me!"

Silence filled the room and Walter rushed to fill it.

"At Michigan, I was a star. Girls wanted me left and right, but her. She was different. I saw her in the library once and I saw her smile at me. I knew right then that we were right for each other, but she never saw it." His tone turned bitter. "So I tried to convince her that we were right, but she never had time to talk to me. I thought it was because she was so dedicated about her work, but it turned out she had a thing for _you._"

House waited, knowing that this confession was required, that holding in his raging temper until this bastard confessed was something he owed Cuddy. It was the least he could do.

"I saw you and her, laughing and talking after your trial. My brother told me what had happened. I remember hating you for wrapping her around your finger the way you did. So I started watching her more, hoping she had just done it to be nice. Instead, I see you and her everywhere. You teasing her and her responding as if she didn't care."

"She didn't." House interjected. "She and I always had our method of communication. Idiot like you wouldn't understand."

"What happened on Valentine's Day?" Catherine asked, laying a hand on House's arm.

Walter swallowed. "I followed her home. Then I saw _him_ show up and then I saw them through the window with my binoculars. He was all over her. And she liked it! The whore liked it! She kissed him good bye when he got a phone call. I lost it."

House braced himself for the punchline.

"I went in and argued with her. I didn't mean to kill her I just wanted her to know that I was there, that I had seen. Then she was dead and I called my brother for help." He finished.

"Did Tritter help you clean up the scene?" Catherine asked.

Walter nodded. "He slit her wrists and held it up to cover the walls and stuff. I helped wipe down the fingerprints."

House rose, trembling in anger and grief. "You son of a bitch." He whispered. "You took something from me. You took something from the word."

He threw the scrapbook Catherine had brought onto the table and it opened. He moved behind Walter and pointed at the picture.

"Look at her!" He roared. "Look at what you took away!"

He grabbed Walter by the neck and forced his head to look at the pictures. He shoved his head down onto the metal table, over and over again. Catherine ran to them, trying to pry House's fingers from Walter's throat and to keep from causing some brain damage. Grissom rushed in to help as did Olivia.

The three of them finally got House off, the doctor had been inhumanly strong due to his rush of adrenaline.

He calmed under the restraints. "I should kill you. I want to kill you. But I won't."

Walter smirked, holding his forehead.

House ignored him. "Not because I'm scared too. Oh no. I won't kill you because Lisa wouldn't want me to. She wouldn't have given a damn about your well being either, but she did care about me. She would care that I wouldn't spend the rest of my life in jail, short as it may be." He said.

He pushed the scrapbook toward him again with his cane. "You do, however, need to know what you had taken away. She was a second rate doctor but a good boss. The most loyal friend I've ever had. A sister and daughter." He hesitated and then flipped the page to the picture of the two of them in that diner. "And the person that kept me alive."

He then leaned in close and with one fluid movement, too quick for Catherine and Grissom to either predict or stop, House's closed fist met with Walter's nose. A sickening crunch filled the room followed by a cry of pain and blood gushing onto the metal table. Catherine and Grissom sprang forth to restrain House, but he was already limping out the door, his back hunched like that of a defeated man where life had beaten him senseless.

He hadn't meant to say so much.

"_House!"_

_Her voice sounded so far away. He felt himself swimming to the surface, the current pulling him above water against his will. She had her fingers against his neck, her eyes on her watch as she counted softly under her breath. _

"_You dratted idiot! What the hell were you thinking?" Cuddy demanded, her voice rising angrily. _

"_I just wanted the pain to stop." House moaned softly. _

_He had never known such pain both physical and emotional. His leg burned with a fire that refused to be quenched, while his chest ached with the dull sense of betrayal when he had learned that Stacy had knowingly gone against his wishes and taken out the muscle of his leg. _

_In blinding pain, he had taken too many of those blessed white pills and collapsed, hoping for the end of his misery. No such luck. Cuddy had stormed in and after assessing the situation and her options, had purposefully slipped a finger into his mouth, causing him to vomit violently, forcing the poison out of his system. _

"_Why are you here?" he asked, before he turned once again to vomit the bottle of pills he had downed along with everything he had eaten in his lifetime. _

"_Stacy asked me to check on you while she's in Baltimore." Cuddy answered simply. Despite her anger at his behavior, the hand that wiped a cool wet cloth across his forehead was gentle. "House what were you trying to do?"_

"_Do you understand English Cuddles? I was trying to make the pain stop." House said, his voice too tired to fully carry the weight of his sarcasm. _

_She looked at him with sadness. "Greg, you can't do this to your system. Your liver won't be able to take the strain if you keep going at this rate. It's only been a week, give it time."_

"_I don't want time!" He said hoarsely. "I want this to stop." _

_She stroked his hair, gently running her delicate fingers through it. House found himself closing his eyes enjoying the contact in spite of himself. _

"_You can't keep doing this to yourself." She murmured._

"_Why not?" House demanded weakly. "Nothing matters very much anymore. No one would miss me. I don't have a job. Don't have anything."_

"_I think that can change." Cuddy said slowly. _

"_How?" He asked. His weakness making him more agreeable than she had ever seen him. _

"_I can offer you a job." _

_He scoffed. "Really Cuddy? I refuse to be your sex toy woman." _

_She chuckled in spite of herself, used to the jokes he always used on her. _

"_I got promoted this morning." She said. "I'm Dean of Medicine." _

"_Dean of Medicine with funbags like yours?" He asked. _

_She ignored this although feeling more confident in his condition now that he was able to use his biting sarcasm. _

"_I want you to head a newly made diagnostics department." _

Cuddy had saved his life. When he was lying in that hospital bed, she had offered a middle ground to Stacy that had saved his life whether he wanted it or not. Every time he overdosed after the infarction, she had been the one to check his pulse and nurse him back to health. She had his best interests at heart. He always knew that.

When she had given him his job, she had pulled his mind from the misery that was his life. Although she had no cured it, she made it bearable. She brought him back into the world. Back to people. She had hired Wilson then, not long after. She had always insisted that it was because Wilson was a very good oncologist and House didn't argue with that, but some part of him always thought that perhaps she had hired him was to make sure House would not be alone when Stacy left.

He hadn't lied when he said Cuddy had kept him alive. He felt the most alive when he was with her. Bantering, bickering, cracking comments that would offend most, but knowing that they would just wash off a strong woman like her. She had been the spark. The one person that could make him keep his eyes open.

House leaned his head against the cool wood of his cane, breathing in deeply, gasping against the pain in his leg. He stumbled back into the hospital and sat down heavily in his chair, still trembling from the ache that refused to lessen no matter how many pills he took.

--

Author's Note: I think I can say that I really am back. I'm going to try and update as much as I can from now on. For this chapter, I thought that maybe Cuddy hired Wilson because when House had his infarction, Wilson was never there, so I thought maybe he didn't know until after he started working at PPTH. Hehe. Anyway enjoy!


	12. Blessed Silence

Blessed Silence

Disclaimer: I do not own House, or CSI. I just borrowed the characters.

Thanks to all those who reviewed!

--

The pills weren't helping him. In frustration he threw the entire container into the trash can. Then breathing hard, hesitated, then picked them back up. He should have confronted Detective Tritter as well, but Catherine had insisted that he leave and go home. She had told him they had him and the evidence was all against him. Then his leg had threatened to give up on him. He rubbed the aching muscle in his leg and then realized that his injured leg was not the one that was aching.

His eyes widened as he fell out of his chair, screaming in pain.

--

He awoke to Cameron peering into his eyes with a flashlight. He shoved her hands away.

"I'm fine." He snarled.

"No you're not."

He looked up to see Wilson and Stacy standing near the doorway while Foreman was gathering materials to draw blood and Chase thinking hard.

"You collapsed." Wilson stated.

"Thanks for the update Jimbo." House deadpanned.

"That's the second time." Wilson said. "You're not leaving until we figure out what's wrong with you and fix it."

"Are you going to help us?" Cameron asked.

House paused. "You're going to have to learn how to make your own diagnoses some time." He said gruffly.

The ducklings' heads shot up. Wilson shook his head.

"Don't be an idiot, Greg." Stacy said.

"I'm not. And you're not my medical proxy." House said ruthlessly. "So you can't decide to cut off any limbs."

Stacy drew in a sharp breath and looked away. Wilson put a hand on her shoulder.

"House, she's just trying to help." He said soothingly. "Who's your medical proxy now?"

House looked at him and Wilson knew the answer before House opened his mouth.

_She tossed the bundle of forms on his desk and put her hands on her hips. _

"_You have to fill these out." She insisted, holding out a pen to him. _

"_I have pens." House retorted. _

_She gave a sigh as she sat down across from him, twirling the pen through her slim fingers. She pointed at the forms, not bothering to acknowledge his insolence. _

"_Forms, now." She said. _

"_Do I get to see your panties?" He asked. _

_She rolled her eyes. "I'll take an hour off clinic duty." _

"_Make it two and you have a deal." _

_She hesitated. "Fine." She gave in. _

_He smirked as she strode from the room. He picked up the first form and wrote down his name and social security number. Then his eyes traveled down to the medical proxy blank and the back up to the now closed door. His pen scribbled down __**Lisa Cuddy**__ in his sharp precise handwriting. _

"Symptoms?" Foreman asked.

"Pain." House replied.

Foreman gave an exasperated sigh. "What kind of pain?"

"Painful pain." House replied.

Cameron took his hand. He flinched and drew away.

"We can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong." She said softly.

"I told you. Pain." He retorted.

"Where is the pain?" Chase asked. "As in where in your body."

House smirked and then his face contorted in pain. "My leg." He said softly.

Foreman moved toward his right leg. House made no move to stop him. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, not caring if his team got the right symptoms or saved him. Part of him hoped they wouldn't know what was wrong.

He knew of course. The familiarity of the condition came back to him. It was just like last time. The unbearable pain. Everything. Only this time, he didn't want to race to find the diagnose. He didn't want to know that he was dying again, only this time because his body decided that it was finally time to give out. It wasn't a puzzle to him this time. This time he knew the answer and he didn't care. He listened as Cameron suggested infection. Foreman interjected with psychological pain manifesting itself physically while Chase suggested that it could be an environmental factor. He opened his eyes and nodded at all three and sent them on their way to do tests, not caring what their hypothesizes were.

--

Grissom hadn't expected to end up here. He was supposed to be on a plane back to Vegas, instead he was sitting and waiting for Catherine to sign out and get off shift. She had a large black purse slung over one shoulder with sunglasses holding back her strawberry blonde hair as she pushed open the clear doors of the lab and nearly stumbled into him.

"Gil." She said surprised. "I thought you had a plane to catch back to Vegas. The trial won't be for months."

"I just wanted to talk to you." He said. "I miss my best friend."

"Seriously?" She said with a small smile. "Frozen hearted Grissom misses someone?"

He gave her a half smile. "Of everyone, you always understood me the best. We've known each other too long."

She shrugged. "Can't argue with that." She joked. Then she turned to face him, gazing at him intently.

Then a blur of motion exploded. His arms went around her waist as she threw her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his chest as he buried his face in her hair. He lifted her, dangling her legs a few inches above the ground.

"I've missed you too and you're still my best friend." Catherine whispered softly.

He slung an arm over her shoulder and together they made their way to an all night coffee house, chatting and catching up on the too many conversations they had missed.

--

House slept fitfully as one by one his teams theories were disproven.

"The only solution left is infection." Cameron insisted.

"We can't give him anymore antibiotics." Chase argued. "His liver's practically shot from the Vicodin."

"And if we don't do anything, he dies from the infection." Cameron shot back.

"If it's an infection." Foreman added.

The three gave a groan of frustration and stared at the white board. It had one word on it. PAIN. The sun was sinking down and none of the ducklings or Wilson and Stacy prepared to go home. They were going to solve this case. They had to. Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital could suffer no more loss.

--

Time moved in fast forward. The ducklings scrambling to come up with a diagnosis while House deteriorated rapidly. It seem came to the point where he was on painkillers and still screaming from pain. Wilson and Stacy stayed with him, working out a schedule to be constantly be his side.

Wilson found Stacy in a huddled mess one night while House was asleep. She had her face in her hands and her shoulders shook with sobs.

"Whoa, Stacy, what's wrong?" He asked, sitting down beside her and putting an arm around her.

"It's happening again." She weeped. "I've been down this road before James. It's just starting again and I'm just as helpless as I was last time."

Wilson gave a soft sigh. He hadn't been around the last time House had fallen ill. But he had heard from tearful accounts by Cuddy, that it had been miserable, not only for House and Stacy but also for all those involved, including her.

"It's going to be alright." He soothed.



"You don't know that." She said. "Last time when everything fell apart, Lisa was there to help me save his life. She's not here anymore. I don't know what to do. I don't have anyone to tell my worries to. Someone who understood him probably better than I did."

"He's closing off." She continued. "Can't you tell? He's closing off and leaving us behind. He doesn't care if he lives or dies. He isn't Greg House anymore. He died with Lisa."

Wilson said nothing, knowing she was right. He had known before that Cuddy and House had a bond that baffled everyone else. Their connection was undeniable. Stacy turned her face into his chest, crying. He let her cry, letting her use the tears as a release for the pent up fear they all were feeling.

"_Stacy, you need to calm down." Lisa said softly. _

"_How, Lisa?" She cried. "It's only be one day and he's dying and I can't save him. None of his doctors know what's wrong with him."_

_Lisa sighed. "Let me take a look. I know I'm an endocrinologist, but House taught me a lot in college, maybe I'll be able to try."_

_And so she had. She had focused on each symptom, coaxing conditions out of him between the lines of sarcasm Greg threw at her. Stacy looked on as Lisa and Greg did a differential diagnosis together. The other doctors had insisted Greg remain in the dark, thinking him unable to be objective. Lisa did the opposite. The two worked toward the answer late into the night. Together they bounced their intelligence off of each other, understanding each other's thought process. There was no fruit from their work, until the third night. _

"_An infarction." Greg said suddenly as Lisa crossed out two more possible diagnoses that she had proven wrong. _

_She spun from the whiteboard, clutching the marker to her chest, eyes wide. It fit. It fit perfectly. An infarction in the leg. _

Day number three passed with no progress. The ducklings were as stuck as ever and lost without House's biting guidance. House was lost within in his own grief and misery.

The ducklings sat in the conference room staring at the white board. All each lost in their own thoughts.

"Pain. That's all he's given us." Chase said. "Now we've got liver failure."

"The liver failure could be from the Vicodin use." Cameron said. "The only real symptom we have is pain. Too bad that's a symptom for a whole variety of stuff."



Chase looked thoughtful. "Wait, he said pain in his leg. He didn't say which leg. We just assumed it was the one he had his infarction in."

"You think he could have another infarction in his other leg?" Foreman asked. "That's some coincidence."

"We could ask him." Chase said.

"No we can't." Cameron said.

"Why not?" Foreman asked, turning toward her.

She held up her pager. "He just went into a coma." She said softly.

--

He knew right from the start that he had a second infarction. This time, he didn't even suggest the idea to his team, purposefully leaving out hints that would have led them to the problem. Part of him didn't want to be fixed. He wanted to die, to fall into that blessed silence where nothing would matter. He forced himself to turn over in bed during one of the rare moments where neither Wilson or Stacy were in the room, the two having gone to get some food while he had been napping. He pulled out a variety of needles, finding the one he wanted. He stuck it into his IV. Then closed his eyes. The coma would come soon, under a minute. He remembered the last time he had this done. Cuddy had been the one to push in the needle, and his arm now burned with the memory of her touch, a brief hand on his arm as she drew away.

Stacy and Wilson had nearly fainted from shock when they returned, Stacy buzzing Cameron immediately while Wilson was trying his best to revive House.

For House, for the first time in a long time, all was silent. He saw nothing, yet felt a familiar touch on his arm and a soft voice calling him.

--

Author's Note: A few more chapters I think this fic will be finished. Enjoy everyone!


	13. Crossing Boundaries

Crossing Boundaries

Disclaimer: I do not own House or its characters. This is purely for entertainment.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys made me really really happy!

--

House opened his eyes and found himself lying on a soft bed. He rolled over and came face to face with peach colored pillows that were fluffy and comfortable. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, eyes widening at the scene before him.

He was in Cuddy's room although it seemed different. He saw in grayscale as if he were caught in some old movie. However the walls had a strange red sheen to them and the furniture seemed aged as if they had been abandoned and left unused to several years. He looked down and found himself to be dressed in his signature T-shirt and jeans. He had no idea how he got there. The last thing he remembered was letting the blackness overcome him.

He heard soft sound of bare feet on the wooden floorboards. Lisa Cuddy's form filled the doorway wearing a slight frown on her face. She watched him as if she were disappointed but not surprised to see him.

"Am I dead?" House asked. "Because I can't really tell if this is heaven or hell."

Cuddy strode over toward him and sat down beside him. The bed sinking underneath her weight. "Depends on how you look at it." She replied.

"That doesn't answer my question. Am I dead?" He asked.

She turned to fix her blue eyes on him. Her eyes moved up and down as if studying his face. Studying his thoughts.

"Depends on how you look at it." She repeated. "Wilson and Stacy are waiting for you to wake up and go back to them."

"And if I don't want to go back?" He asked.

"Then you move on." She replied as if it were obvious.

"Where is 'on'?" He prodded.

She gave him a small smile and put a finger to her lips. She stood up and touched the red tinted walls. Then he noticed that in her hands she held a red rose.

"It's funny." She said softly. "When people die, they lay red roses in your coffin. The color red."

House remembered. Cuddy's funeral. One by one, red roses laid down on top of the oak coffin. He hadn't.

"Yeah real romantic." House said sarcastically.

She smiled at him and laid it on the bed. That when he saw tiny droplets of blood clinging to her fingertips where the thorns had pierced her porcelain skin. He caught her hand in his and wiped away the droplets. It was strangely electric how comfortable House felt. He felt no pain only simple calm as he sat beside Cuddy. Without knowing what he was doing, he wrapped his arm around her and coaxed her head onto his chest, touching his lips to her hair.

She felt cold yet warm. As if she were a signal calling him home to the place that his restlessness had never let him find. His journey had been long and bumpy, filled with shifting gravel and cracked sidewalks and sometimes no path at all. He never found peace. He had moved through his life like a restless wanderer finding so many places that he could have called his own, but never being able to make it so.

"You have to decide soon." Cuddy murmured. "You can't stay here forever."

"Why not?" He asked just as quietly.

She untangled herself from him and led him to the window. She leaned against it peering out and he stood beside her. The room became colder and she shivered beside him.

"Blow on the window." She said softly.

He hesitated and then obeyed. He saw his warm breath create fog on the glass. He looked at Cuddy who leaned in beside him and blew as well. The glass remained as clear as crystal. He understood. The barrier between them was his life. There had always been a barrier between them. An invisible boundary that they could not cross. In life it had been his demons. In her death, it was his life.

"I need you." He said. "Even if it's just to keep me on the fence of insane and sane."

"I complete you." Cuddy said as if reading his thoughts. "You'll never be complete without me. Let go of your misery Greg."

He closed his eyes as her fingers touched his jaw, gently caressing his face. He felt her lips on his. And then nothing.

--

"I should have known he'd pull a stunt like this." Wilson said, slamming his fist against the wall.

Stacy put a hand on his shoulder. "It isn't your fault. Greg has always done what he wanted."

"No." Wilson said. "He never did what he wanted. He did what his misery wanted. This time, I don't know why he did what he did."

The ducklings had gone through an array of tests and finally had a diagnosis. It was indeed another infarction. In his other leg but at this moment, the only option was amputation. It was a repetition of history with more devastating results. It was too late to do anything.

Darkness was falling as each doctor prepared to leave. Each bid good-bye to House even if he couldn't hear them. Stacy had to take a phone call from Mark. Only Wilson remained in the room as the sun set and darkness enveloped the room.

The door slid open and Wilson looked up thinking it was Stacy. He jumped.

Lisa Cuddy stood before him, hair let down in a curtain of black curls. She was dressed as she had in life if she had been working with a patient. A light pink blouse with plunging neckline, pencil skirt that accented every curve of her body. High heels that made a light tap as she walked into the room, sliding the door shut behind her.

"You're here for Greg." Wilson said softly.

She shook her head. "No, I'm here as a friend. We're his support." She said. "He's at a crossroad. The next move is his and his alone. "

Wilson rose and stood before her. He reached for her hand, touching coolness and enveloping her small hand in his larger one. He gripped it tight. He stared when House opened his eyes.

"Greg, you're awake." Wilson breathed.

"No, I'm not." House replied, rising to stand beside Cuddy. He looked at her. "I'm done." And he was. With his misery, with his mistakes, with his loneliness. He was done.

Cuddy smiled at him, warm and unreserved. She let go of Wilson's hand and took House's. "Look after my hospital James." She said.

"Yeah, make Chase's life miserable for me." House said.

"Yeah, I'll make him start dating Cameron." Wilson replied lightly.

House smiled. Sarcastic and cocky like before. Wilson found a grin form on his face as well. Cuddy reached out and touched Wilson's eyes and he closed them at the gentleness of her fingertips.

When he opened them, he was in his chair again and House's was lying on the bed. Wilson got up and walked to House's side. He nodded in understanding when he saw that House's chest was no longer rising and falling. As if in confirmation, the heart monitor beeped out the end of House's life.

Nurses hurried in, rushing in with paddles. Wilson held up a hand.

"Let him go. He's made up his mind." He said softly. He pulled the sheet up and covered House's face.

--

Author's Note: This is the final chapter. There will be an epilogue, but it's in a different style. I hope you enjoyed this story.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

Red is the color of all things intense and puissant. It is the pure violence of war and the unpredictable force of love. It is the loyalty between two people that transcends all barriers, even that of the pits of Tartarus. It demands attention and craves submission. It is life. It is courage. It is sacrifice. It is passion. Perhaps that is why the blood of human runs crimson.

The color red is not a simple admiration or acknowledge of the array of colors that have splashed the world, but a pure force in itself, unyielding in symbolism. It is desire. It is heat. The glowing hotness of an unrequited love only to have lovers stand side by side in the eternal blackness of death, ever emitting the ruby jewel of the strongest of emotions.

It is the color of aggression and danger. To play with fire while remaining unknown to the edge of peril that one faces. It is to see and to see past, never knowing that one has looked directly in the eyes of fury and destruction only to walk away on borrowed time. Time that ends when the scarlet of insane vengeance arrives on the doorstep, forcing itself into the sanctuary of the home.

It is pure passion of love. The excitement of the first time, the first person, the first tantalizing memory of wasted time and a heated dance of a turbulent love affair. The hidden place of the most unmarred of love. Of absolute trust and confidence. Red is the color of blood sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice. Of love, of joy, of everything one holds dear for a purpose that one does not know. Emotions that stir the blood and force it to run for a different reason than simply living. Or call a stop to the flow of the cells for the attempt to regain what was lost in the span of existence and human ignorance.

Red is the tangled web of a confusion and chaos from the most powerful of amorousness to the painful agony of separation and loss to the uninhibited ecstasy of unity. Joyous. Beautiful. Tormenting. Necessary.

In death he feels alive. Jubilated. The first time. The last time. The first love. The last love. One second. One day. Eternity.

--

Author's Note:

Thanks to all who reviewed. I really enjoyed writing this story and I hope you enjoyed it as well. I know the epilogue is very different, but this idea was in my head demanding to be written down so I, humble servant of the insane thought processes that trudge through my skull, obeyed. Hope you liked it!


End file.
